^                        PRINCETON,     N.    J.                         <J' 

i 

Shelf 

BV    595    .S73    1881                            ^ 
Stanley,    Arthur   Penrhyn, 

1815-1881. 
Christian   institutions 

Number 

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PRIITCSTOIT 
REC.SEP  ItiiiJ 


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ESSAYS 


ECCLESIASTICAL   SUBJECTS. 


CHRISTIAN   mSTITUTIONS 


e^a^^  on  tccUm^tml  ^nbitct^ 


ARTHUR  PENRHYN  STANLEY,  D.D. 

SEAN  OF  WESTMINSTER 
AUTHOR  OF  "history  OF  THE  JEWISH  CHURCH,"    "  SINAI  AND  PALESTINE, 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1881 

[Published  by  arrangement  with  the  Author.] 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge : 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  and  (Jompany. 


PREFACE. 


This  volume,  though  not  pretending  to  completeness, 
forms  a  connected  whole.  The  Essays  touch  on  a  va- 
riety of  topics,  and  were  written  at  long  intervals  of 
time,  but  they  are  united  by  the  common  bond  which 
connects  the  institutions  to  which  they  relate.  It  may- 
be well  to  state  here  some  of  the  general  conclusions 
which  they  suggest. 

1.  Underneath  the  sentiments  and  usages  which  have 
accumulated  round  the  forms  of  Christianity,  it  is  be- 
lieved that  there  is  a  class  of  principles  —  a  Religion  as 
it  were  behind  the  religion  —  which,  however  dimly  ex- 
pressed, has  given  them  whatever  vitality  they  possess. 
It  is  not  intended  to  assert  that  these  principles  were 
continuously  present  to  the  minds  of  the  early  Christians, 
or  that  they  were  not  combined  with  much  heterogeneous 
matter  which  interfered  with  their  development.  But  it 
is  maintained  that  there  is  enough  in  them  of  valuable 
truth  to  give  to  these  ancient  institutions  a  use  in  times 
and  circumstances  most  different  from  those  in  which 
they  originated.  If  this  be  shown  to  be  the  case,  the 
main  purpose  of  these  Essays  will  have  been  accom- 
plished. The  Sacraments  —  the  Clergy — the  Pope  — 
the  Creed  —  will  take  a  long  time  in  dying,  if  die  they 
must.  It  is  not  useless  to  indicate  a  rational  point  of 
view,  from  which  they  may  be  approached,  and  to  show 
the  germs  which,  without  a  violent  dislocation,  may  be 
developed  into  higher  truth. 


VI  PREFACE. 

2.  The  entire  unlikeness  of  the  early  clays  of  Chris- 
tianity (or,  if  we  prefer  so  to  put  it,  of  the  times  of  the 
Roman  Empire)  to  our  own  is  a  point  which  such  a  study 
will  bring  out.  It  has  been  truly  said  to  be  a  great  mis- 
fortune in  one  who  treats  of  theological  subjects  to  have 
the  power  of  seeing  likenesses  without  the  power  of  see- 
ing differences.  In  practical  matters  the  power  of  seeing 
likenesses  is  certainly  a  rare  and  valuable  gift.  The  di- 
vergencies and  disputes  of  theologians  or  theological  par- 
ties have  been  in  great  measure  occasioned  by  the  want 
of  it.  But  in  historical  matters  the  power  of  seeing  dif- 
ferences cannot  be  too  highly  prized.  The  tendency  of 
ordinary  men  is  to  invest  every  age  with  the  attributes 
of  their  own  time.  This  is  specially  the  case  in  religious 
history.  The  Puritan  idea  that  there  was  a  Biblical 
counterpart  to  every — the  most  trivial  —  incident  or  in- 
stitution of  modern  ecclesiastical  life,  and  that  all  ecclesi- 
astical statesmanship  consisted  in  reducing  the  varieties 
of  civilization  to  the  crudity  of  the  times  when  Chris- 
tianity was  as  yet  in  its  infancy,  has  met  with  an  unspar- 
ing criticism  from  the  hand  of  Hooker.  The  same  fancy 
has  been  exhibited  on  a  larger  scale  by  the  endeavor  of 
Roman  Catholic  and  High  Church  divines  to  discover 
their  own  theories  of  the  Papacy,  the  Hierarchy,  the 
administration  of  the  Sacraments,  in  the  early  Church. 
Such  a  passion  for  going  back  to  an  imaginary  past,  or 
transferring  to  the  past  the  peculiarities  of  later  times, 
may  be  best  corrected  by  keeping  in  view  the  total  un- 
likeness of  the  first,  second,  or  third  centuries  to  any- 
thing which  now  exists  in  any  part  of  the  world. 

3.  This  reluctance  to  look  the  facts  of  history  in  the 
face  has  favored  the  growth  of  a  vast  superstructure  of 
fable.  It  used  to  be  said  in  the  early  days  of  the  revival 
of  mystical  and  ecclesiastical  Christianity  at  Oxford  that 
it  was  impossible  to  conceive  that  the  mediaeval  system 


PREFACE.  ni 

could  ever  have  been  developed  out  of  a  state  of  things 
quite  dissimilar.  "  That  is  the  fundamental  fallacy  of 
the  ecclesiastical  theory,"  it  was  remarked  in  answer  by 
a  distinguished  statesman.  "  It  is  forgotten  how  very 
soon,  out  of  a  state  of  things  entirely  opposite,  may  be 
born  a  religious  system  which  claims  to  be  the  genuine 
successor.  Witness  the  growth  of  '  the  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  Church,'  with  its  hierai'chy  and  liturgy,  out  of 
the  bald  Presbyterianism  and  excited  utterances  of  Ed- 
ward Irving  and  his  companions."  A  like  example  might 
be  pointed  out  in  the  formation  of  the  Society  of  Friends, 
as  founded  by  William  Penn  and  his  associates,  with 
the  sober  self-control  which  has  ever  since  characterized 
them,  out  of  the  enthusiastic,  strange,  indecorous  acts  of 
George  Fox.  Another  might  be  found  in  the  succession 
which,  though  with  some  exaggeration,  has  been  traced, 
of  the  Oxford  movement  to  the  Wesleyan  or  so-called 
Evangelical  movement  of  the  last  generation. 

Such  a  transformation  may  have  occurred  with  regard 
to  Christianity.  If  its  earlier  forms  were  quite  unlike  to 
those  which  have  sprung  out  of  them,  it  may  be  instruc- 
tive to  see  in  various  instances  the  process  by  which  the 
change  took  place.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  earlier 
form  was  more  correct  than  the  later ;  but  it  is  necessary 
to  a  candid  view  of  the  subject  to  know  that  it  existed. 

4.  Another  point  which  is  disclosed  in  any  attempt  to 
go  below  the  surface  of  ecclesiastical  history  is  the  strong 
contrast  between  the  under-current  of  popular  feeling 
and  the  manifestations  of  opinion  in  the  published  litera- 
ture of  the  time.  Especially  is  this  brought  to  light  in 
the  representations  of  the  Roman  catacombs  —  hardly  to 
be  recognized  in  any  work  of  any  Christian  writer  of  the 
time,  and  yet  unquestionably  familiar  to  the  Christians 
of  that  age.  Forms  often  retain  an  impress  of  the  opin- 
ions of  which  they  were  the  vehicles,  long  after  the  opin- 
ions themselves  have  perished. 


Vm  PREFACE. 

5.  There  is  an  advantage  in  perceiving  clearly  the 
close  community  of  origin  which  unites  secular  and  sa- 
cred usages.  It  is  evident  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
early  Christian  institutions  sprang  from  social  customs 
which  prevailed  at  the  time.  It  is  satisfactory  to  see 
that  this  community  of  thought,  which  it  has  been  the 
constant  effort  of  later  times  to  tear  asunder,  was  not 
unknown  to  the  primitive  epoch.  It  has  been  the  tend- 
ency of  the  lower  and  more  vulgar  forms  of  religious  life 
to  separate  the  secular  and  the  sacred.  It  will  always  be 
the  tendency  of  the  loftier  forms  of  religious  thought  to 
bring  them  together.  Such  a  union  is,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, exhibited  in  these  early  centuries. 

6.  It  has  been  attempted  to  find  on  all  these  points  a 
better  and  not  the  darker  side  of  these  institutions.  This 
is  a  principle  which  may  be  pushed  to  excess.  But  it  is 
believed  to  be  safer  and  more  generous  than  the  reverse 
policy.  No  doubt  every  one  of  these  forms  has  a  magical 
or  superstitious  element.  But  even  for  the  purpose  of 
superseding  those  barbarous  elements,  it  is  wiser  to  dwell 
on  the  noble  and  spiritual  aspect  which  the  same  forms 
may  wear  ;  and  with  the  purpose  of  reconciling  the  ulti- 
mate progress  of  civilization  with  Christianity,  it  is  the 
only  course  which  can  be  advantageously  pursued. 

7.  Finally,  two  conclusions  are  obvious.  First,  that 
which  existed  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Church  cannot  be 
deemed  incompatible  with  its  essence  in  later  ages.  Sec- 
ondly, that  which  did  not  exist  in  primitive  times  cannot 
be  deemed  indispensable  to  the  essence  of  the  Church, 
either  late  or  early. 

Deanery,  Westminster  : 
December,  1880. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BAPTISM. 

PAGB 

Baptism  in  the  Apostolic  age 1 

Baptism  in  the  Patristic  age 4 

I.  The  meaning  of  Baptism  :  — 

1.  As  an  act  of  cleansing 7 

2.  As  a  plunge 9 

3.  As  an  assimilation  of  the  Christian  character    ,         ...  12 
II.  Changes  in  Baptism  :  — 

1.  The  opinions  concerning  it 14 

2.  The  form  of  administration 21 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE    EUCHARIST. 

The  time  of  its  first  institution 34 

1.  Its  connection  with  Judaism    .......  36 

2.  Selection  of  the  most  universal  elements 3-7 

3.  Parting  meal 38 

4.  Its  future  meaning 40 

CHAPTER  III. 


THE    EUCHARIST    IN    THE    EARLY    CHURCH. 


I.  Its  festive  character    .... 
II.  Its  evening  character      .... 

III.  The  posture  of  the  recipient 

IV.  The  elements 

The  bread 

The  wine  and  water    .... 

The  fish 

V.  The  table 

VI.  The  po.sture  and  position  of  the  minister 
VII.  Reading  of  the  Scriptures ;  the  amboues 


4.5 
50 
.51 
52 
52 
54 
55 
57 
58 
60 


•S  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Viri.  The  Homily 61 

IX.  The  kiss  of  peace 62 

X.  The  Liturgy 63 

The  offering  of  the  bread  and  wine 66 

The  Lord's  Prayer 68 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    EDOHARISTIC    SACRIFICE. 

I.  The  ancient  idea  of  Sacrifice 73 

II.  Substitution  of  new  ideas 74 

1.  Prayer  and  praise 75 

2.  Charitable  efforts 77 

3.  Self-sacrifice 77 

m.  Exemplified  in  the  Gospel  History 78 

IV.  Exemplified  in  the  Christian  Church 78 

V.  Exemplified  in  the  Eucharist 80 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE    REAL,    PRESENCE. 

The  spiritual  and  moral  presence  of  the  Redeemer    ....  86 

Reasons  for  its  rejection  by  the  Catholic  Church     ....  89 

I.  Misuse  of  parabolical  language 91 

II.  Prevalence  of  magic 93 

III.  Union  of  physical  with  moral  ideas 95 

IV.  Mixture  of  ideas  in  the  Lutheran  Church        ....  105 
V.  Mixture  of  ideas  in  the  English  Church 107 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  BODY  AND  BLOOD  OF  CHRIST. 

I.  Use  of  the  words  in  St.  John's  Gospel 113 

II.  Use  of  the  words  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels         .         .        .         .  115 

1.  The  Body,  the  essence  of  Christ's  character   .         .        .         .117 

2.  The  Body,  the  Christian  community 122 

3.  The  Blood  of  Christ,  the  innermost  essence  of  Christ's  char- 

acter            125 

Love 128 

Attestation 132 

Enthusiasm 133 

Cleansing 134 


CONTENTS.  XI 
CHAPTER   VII. 

ABSOLUTION. 

PAGE 

I.  Binding  and  loosing 144 

Remitting  and  retaining 146 

IT.  Universal  application  of  the  words      ......  147 

III.  Use  of  the  words  in  the  Ordination  Service     ....  155 

IV.  Application  of  the  words  to  confession  and  absolution         .         .  156 

CHAPTER  Vm. 

ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS. 

I.  Antiquarian  import 163 

II.  Dress  of  the  ancient  world 164 

1.  The  shirt 165 

2.  The  shawl 167 

3.  The  overcoat 168 

III.  Their  secular  origin 171 

Their  transformation 172 

Their  contrasts 180 

Importance  of  maintaining  their  indifference      ....  184 

The  Ornaments'  Rubric 185 

Attention  to  matters  of  real  importance 191 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    BASILICA. 

Its  form 197 

Its  adaptation  to  Christian  worship 199 

The  popular  character  of  Christian  worship 201 

The  secular  origin  of  Christian  usages 202 

The  use  of  art 204 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE    CLERGY. 

I.  The  facts  of  the  Institution .  207 

1.  The  identity  of  Bishop  and  Presbyter        ....  208 

2.  Origin  of  the  orders 208 

3.  Vestiges  of  primitive  usages 209 

4.  The  Deacons 210 

5.  Appointment 212 

6.  Forms  of  ordination       ....          ....  212 

7.  Their  ministrations 212 


XU  CONTENTS. 

PASX 

II.  Growth  of  the  clergy 213 

Origin  of  episcopacy 214 

III.  Origin  of  the  clergy 216 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    POPE. 

The  Pope :  — 

Compared  with  the  Emperor  and  the  Sultan      ....  220 

I.  As  the  representative  of  Christian  antiquity  ....  222 

11.  As  successor  of  the  Emperors  of  Rome 228 

III.  As  Italian  prince 232 

IV.  As  "the  Pope" 234 

V.  As  the  chief  ecclesiastic 244 

VI.  His  mixed  character 246 

Note.     His  posture  in  the  Communion 250 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    LITANT. 

I.  Its  origin 259 

II.  Its  contents 264 

III.  Its  form 266 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    ROMAK    CATACOMBS. 

I.  Their  structure    .         .         • 274 

II.  Their  pictures 275 

III.  Their  characteristic  ideas 277 

1.  Cheerfulness 278 

2.  Choice  of  heathen  subjects 279 

3.  Gracefulness  of  art 279 

IV.  Christian  ideas 281 

1.  Good  Shepherd: 281 

(a)  Connection  with  heathen  ideas 284 

(b)  Joyous  aspect 284 

(c)  Latitude 285 

(dj  Simplicity 285 

2.  The  Vine 286 

(a)  Joyousness 287 

.     (6)  Wide  diffusion 288 

(c)  Variety 289 


CONTENTS.  XIU 

PAGE 

V.  Epitaphs 289 

1.  Their  simplicity 289 

2.  Their  idea  of  rest 291 

3.  The  idea  of  immortality 292 

VI.  Conclusion 293 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  CREED  OF  THE  EARLY  CHRISTIANS. 

The  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost 296 

I.  Meaning  of  the  words  :  — 

1.  The  Father 297 

2.  The  Son 299 

3.  The  Spirit 305 

II.  Their  nnion 307 

Their  separation 310 

III.  Conclusion 313 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    lord's   prayer. 

1.  Its  universality 315 

2.  Its  Liturgical  form 317 

3.  Its  varieties 317 

4.  Its  selection  from  Rabbinical  writings 319 

5.  Its  brevity 320 

6.  Its  contents 321 

7.  Its  conclusion 324 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    COUNCIL   AND    CREED    OF    CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Gregory  Nazianzen 327 

Maximus 331 

Funeral  of  Athanaric  .  336 

Deposition  of  Gregory 342 

Election  of  Nectarius 346 

End  of  Council 348 

Creed  of  Constantinople 350 

Councils  of  Epliesus  and  Chalcedon 350 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    TEN    COMMANDMENTS. 

PAGE 

L  The  Ten  Commandments 372 

1.  Israelite  arrangements 372 

2.  Christian  arrangements 373 

II.  Their  importance 375 

IIL  Their  spirit 376 

1.  First  Commandment 376 

2.  Second  Commandment 377 

3.  Third  Commandment 378 

4.  Fourth  Commandment 378 

5.  Fifth  Commandment 380 

6.  Sixth  Commandment 381 

7.  Seventh  Commandment 382 

8.  Eighth  Commandment 382 

9.  Ninth  Commandment 383 

10.  Tenth  Commandment 384 

IV.  The  Two  Great  Commandments 384 

V.  The  Eight  Beatitudes 386 

VI.  The  Eleventh  Commandment 386 

ADDENDA 393 

INDEX 395 


Errata. 

Page  13,  eleven  lines  from  bottom, /or  imposed  read  impressed. 

"  33,  fifteen  lines  from  top, /or  is  read  in. 

"  35,  fourteen  lines  from  top, /or  more  read  mere. 

"  40,  thirteen  lines  from  bottom, /or  their  read  this. 

"  48,  four  lines  from  bottom, /or  obedniac  read  obednia. 

"  f)\,-aolt,  for  aveVkeae  read  avi-KEae. 

"  91,  fifteen  lines  from  bottom,/or  still  read  shall. 

"  326,  note,  for  Lecture  xiii.  read  Lecture  xiv. 


CHRISTIAN   INSTITUTIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BAPTISM. 

What  was  Baptism  in  the  Apostolic  age  ?  It  coin- 
cided with  a  vast  religious  change  both  of  individuals  and 
of  nations.    Multitudes  of  men  and  women  were  Baptism  in 

,  .   ,  .  I  ,        ,  the  Apos- 

seized  with  one  common  impulse,  and  aban-  toiicage. 
doned,  by  the  irresistible  conviction  of  a  day,  an  hour,  a 
moment,  their  former  habits,  friends,  associates,  to  be 
enrolled  in  a  new  society  under  the  banner  of  a  new 
faith.  That  new  society  was  intended  to  be  a  society  of 
"  brothers  ;  "  bound  by  ties  closer  than  any  earthly  broth- 
erhood, filled  with  life  and  energy  such  as  fall  to  the 
lot  of  none  but  the  most  ardent  enthusiasts,  yet  tem- 
pered by  a  moderation  and  a  wisdom  such  as  enthusiasts 
have  rarely  possessed.  It  was  moreover  a  society  swayed 
by  the  presence  of  men  whose  words  even  now  cause  the 
heart  to  burn,  and  by  the  recent  recollections  of  One, 
whom  "not  seeing  they  loved  with  love  unspeakable." 
Into  this  society  they  passed  by  an  act  as  natural  as  it 
was  expressive.  The  plunge  into  the  bath  of  purification, 
long  known  among  the  Jewish  nation  as  the  symbol  of  a 
change  of  life,  had  been  revived  with  a  fresh  energy  by 
the  Essenes,  and  it  i-eceived  a  definite  signification  and 
impulse  from  the  austere  prophet  who  derived  his  name 
from  the  ordinance.^    This  rite  was  retained  as  the  pledge 

^  For  John  the  Baptist,  see  Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Church,  iii.  399. 
1 


2  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

of  entrance  into  a  new  and  universal  communion.  In 
that  early  age  the  scene  of  the  transaction  was  either 
some  deep  wayside  spring  or  well,  as  for  the  Ethiopian, 
or  some  rushing  river,  as  the  Jordan,  or  some  vast  reser- 
voir, as  at  Jericho  ^  or  Jerusalem,  whither,  as  in  the  Baths 
of  Caracalla  at  Rome,  the  whole  population  resorted  for 
swimming  or  washing. 

The  earliest  scene  of  the  immersion  was  in  the  Jordan. 
That  rushing  river  —  the  one  river  of  Palestine  —  found 
at  last  its  fit  purpose.  Although  no  details  are  given  of 
the  external  parts  of  the  ceremony,  a  lively  notion  may 
be  formed  of  the  transaction  by  the  scene  which  now 
takes  place  at  the  bathing  of  the  pilgrims  at  Easter.2 
Their  approach  to  the  spot  is  by  night.  Above  is  the 
bright  Paschal  moon,  before  them  moves  a  bright  flare  of 
torches,  on  each  side  huge  watch-fires  break  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  and  act  as  beacons  for  the  successive  de- 
scents of  the  road.  The  sun  breaks  over  the  eastern  hills 
as  the  head  of  the  cavalcade  reaches  the  brink  of  the 
Jordan.  The  Sacred  Pviver  rushes  through  its  thicket 
of  tamarisk,  poplar,  willow,  and  agnus-castus,  with  rapid 
eddies,  and  of  a  turbid  yellow  color,  like  the  Tiber  at 
Rome,  and  about  as  broad.  They  dismount,  and  set  to 
work  to  perform  their  bath;  most  on  the  open  space, 
some  further  up  amongst  the  thickets;  some  plunging 
in  naked,  —  most,  however,  with  white  dresses,  which 
they  bring  with  them,  and  which,  having  been  so  used, 
are  kept  for  their  winding-sheets.  Most  of  the  bathers 
keep  within  the  shelter  of  the  bank,  where  the  water  is 
about  four  feet  in  depth,  though  with  a  bottom  of  very 
deep  mud.  The  Coptic  pilgrims  are  curiously  distin- 
guished from  the  rest  by  the  boldness  with  which  they 

1  Compare  the  account  of  the  young  courtiers  of  Herod  plunging  in  the  tank 
at  Jericho.     Joseph.  Ant.  xv.  33.     The  word  Panriiio  is  used  for  it. 

2  This  account  is  taken  from  Sinai  and  Palestine,  chap.  7.     I  have  hardly 
altered  it,  lest  the  original  impression  should  ho  lost. 


Chap.  I.]  IN   THE  RIVER  JORDAN.  3 

dart  into  the  main  current,  striking  the  water  after  their 
fashion  alternately  with  their  two  arms,  and  playing  with 
the  eddies,  which  hurry  them  down  and  across  as  if  they 
were  in  the  cataracts  of  their  own  Nile ;  crashing  through 
the  thick  boughs  of  the  jungle  which,  on  the  eastern 
bank  of  the  stream,  intercepts  their  progress,  and  then 
recrossing  the  river  higher  up,  where  they  can  wade,  as- 
sisted by  long  poles  which  they  have  cut  from  the  oppo- 
site thickets.  It  is  remarkable,  considering  the  mixed 
assemblage  of  men  and  women,  in  such  a  scene,  that 
there  is  so  little  appearance  of  levity  or  indecorum.  A 
primitive  domestic  character  pervades  in  a  singular  form 
the  whole  transaction.  The  families  which  have  come 
on  their  single  mule  or  camel  now  bathe  together,  with 
the  utmost  gravity ;  the  father  receiving  from  the  mother 
the  infant,  which  has  been  brought  to  receive  the  one 
immersion  which  will  suffice  for  the  rest  of  its  life,  and 
thus,  by  a  curious  economy  of  resources,  save  it  from  the 
expense  and  danger  of  a  future  pilgrimage  in  after-years. 
In  about  two  hours  the  shores  are  cleared  ;  with  the 
same  quiet  they  remount  their  camels  and  horses  ;  and 
before  the  noonday  heat  has  set  in,  are  again  encamped 
on  the  upper  plain  of  Jericho.  Once  more  they  may  be 
seen.  At  the  dead  of  night,  the  drum  again  wakes  them 
for  their  homeward  march.  The  torches  again  go  be- 
fore; behind  follows  the  vast  multitude,  mounted,  pass- 
ing in  profound  silence  over  that  silent  plain  —  so  silent 
that,  but  for  the  tinkling  of  the  drum,  its  departure 
would  hardly  be  perceptible.  The  troops  stay  on  the 
ground  to  the  end,  to  guard  the  rear,  and  when  the  last 
roll  of  the  drum  announces  that  the  last  soldier  is  gone, 
the  whole  plain  returns  again  to  its  perfect  solitude. 

Such,  on  the  whole,  was  the  first  Baptism.  We  are 
able  to  track  its  history  through  the  next  three  centuries. 
The  rite  was  still  in  great  measure  what  in  its  origin  it 


4  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  1. 

had  been  almost  universally,  the  change  from  darkness 
to  light,  from  evil  to  good ;  the  "  second  birth "  of  men 
from  the  corrupt  society  of  the  dying  Roman  Empire 
into  the  purifying  and  for  the  most  part  elevating  influ- 
ence of  the  living  Christian  Church.  In  some  respects 
the  moral  responsibility  of  the  act  must  have  been  im- 
pressed upon  the  converts  by  the  severe,  sometimes  the 
life-long,  preparation  for  the  final  pledge,  more  deeply 
than  by  the  sudden  and  almost  instantaneous  transition 
which  characterized  the  Baptism  of  the  Apostolic  age. 
But  gradually  the  consciousness  of  this  "  questioning  of 
the  good  conscience  towards  God  "  was  lost  in  the  stress 
laid  with  greater  and  greater  emphasis  on  the  "  putting 
away  the  filth  of  the  flesh." 

Let  us  conceive  ourselves  present  at  those  extraordi- 
nary scenes,  to  which  no  existing  ritual  of  any  European 
Church  offers  any  likeness.     There  was,  as  a 

Celebration  i  i        i  i  •  i    •  i        • 

in  the  Pa-      general  rule,  but  one  baptistery  '■  m  each  city, 

trlsticage.        ^      ,  ,         '  .    '       ,  ^  "^  „  / 

and  such  baptisteries  were  apart  irom  the 
churches.  There  was  but  one  time  of  the  year  when 
the  rite  was  administered  —  namely,  between  Easter  and 
Pentecost.  There  was  but  one  personage  who  could  ad- 
minister it  —  the  presiding  officer  of  the  community,  the 
Bishop,  as  the  Chief  Presbyter  was  called  after  the  first 
century.  There  was  but  one  hour  for  the  ceremony  ;  it 
was  midnight.  The  torches  flared  through  the  dark  hall 
as  the  troops  of  converts  flocked  in.  The  baptistery  ^ 
consisted  of  an  inner  and  an  outer  chamber.  In  the 
outer  chamber  stood  the  candidates  for  baptism,  stripped 
to  their  shirts ;  and,  turning  to  the  west  as  the  region  of 

1  At  Rome  there  was  more  than  one. 

2  In  the  most  beautiful  baptistery  in  the  world,  at  Pisa,  baptisms  even  in  the 
Middle  Ages  only  took  place  on  the  two  days  of  the  Nativity  and  the  Decolla- 
tion of  John  the  Baptist,  and  the  nobles  stood  in  the  {jalleries  to  witness  the 
ceremony.  Sec  Dr.  Smitii's  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities,  i.  pp.  IGO, 
161. 


Chap.  I.]  IN   THE  PATRISTIC   AGE.  5 

sunset,  they  stretched  forth  their  hands  through  the  dimly 
lit  chamber,  as  in  a  defiant  attitude  towards  the  Evil 
Spirit  of  Darkness,  and  speaking  to  hira  by  name,  said  : 
"  I  renounce  thee,  Satan,  and  all  thy  works,  and  all  thy 
pomp,  and  all  thy  service."  Then  they  turned,  like  a 
regiment,  facing  right  round  to  the  east,  and  repeated,  in 
a  form  more  or  less  long,  the  belief  in  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Spirit,  which  has  grown  up  into  the  so-called 
Apostles'  Creed  in  the  West,  and  the  so-called  Nicene 
Creed  in  the  East.  They  then  advanced  into  the  inner 
chamber.  Before  them  yawned  the  deep  pool  or  reser- 
voir, and  standing  by  the  deacon,  or  deaconess,  as  the  case 
might  be,  to  arrange  that  all  should  be  done  with  de- 
cency. The  whole  troop  undressed  completely  as  if  for 
a  bath,  and  stood  up,i  naked,  before  the  Bishop,  who  put 
to  each  the  questions,  to  which  the  answer  was  returned 
in  a  loud  and  distinct  voice,  as  of  those  who  knew  what 
they  had  undertaken.  They  then  plunged  into  the  water. 
Both  before  and  af tet  the  immersion  their  bare  limbs  were 
rubbed  with  oil  from  head  to  foot ;  ^  they  were  then 
clothed  in  white  gowns,  and  received,  as  token  of  the 
kindly  feeling  of  their  new  brotherhood,  the  kiss  of  peace, 
and  a  taste  of  honey  and  milk  ;  and  they  expressed  their 
new  faith  by  using  for  the  first  time  the  Loi'd's  Pi'ayer. 

These  are  the  outer  forms  of  which,  in  the  Western 
Churches,  almost  every  particular  is  altered  even  in  the 
most  material  points.  Immersion  has  become  the  excep- 
tion and  not  the  rule.  Adult  baptism,  as  well  as  immer- 
sion, exists  only  among  the  Baptists.  The  dramatic 
action  of  the  scene  is  lost.  The  anointing,  like  the  bath, 
is  reduced  to  a  few  drops  of  oil  in  the  Roman  Church, 
and  in  the  Protestant  churches  has  entirely  disappeared. 

1  Bingham,  xi.  2,  §  1,  2. 

2,  Ibid.  xi.  9,  §  3,  45 ;  xii.  1,  4.     Possibly  after  immersion  the  undressing  and 
the  anointing  were  partial. 


6  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  L 

What  once  could  only  be  administered  by  Bishops,  is 
now  administered  by  every  clergyman,  and  throughout 
the  Roman  Church  by  laymen  and  even  by  women.  We 
propose  then  to  ask  what  is  the  residue  of  the  mean- 
ing of  Baptism  which  has  survived,  and  what  we  may 
learn  from  it,  and  from  the  changes  through  which  it  has 
passed. 

I.  The  ordinance  of  Baptism  was  founded  on  the  Jew- 
ish —  we  may  say  the  Oriental  — custom,  which,  both  in 
ancient  and  modern  times,  regards  ablution,  cleansing  of 
the  hands,  the  face,  and  the  person,  at  once  as  a  means  of 
health  and  as  a  sign  of  purity.  We  shall  presently  see 
that  here  as  elsewhere  the  Founder  of  Christianity  chose 
rather  to  sanctify  and  elevate  what  already  existed  than 
to  create  and  invent  a  new  form  for  Himself.  Baptism 
is  the  oldest  ceremonial  ordinance  that  Christianity  pos- 
sesses ;  it  is  the  only  one  which  is  inherited  from  Juda- 
ism. It  is  thus  interesting  as  the  only  ordinance  of  the 
Christian  Church  which  equally  belonged  to  the  merciful 
Jesus  and  the  austere  John.  Out  of  all  the  manifold 
religious  practices  of  the  ancient  law  —  sacrifices,  offer- 
ings, temple,  tabernacle,  scapegoat,  sacred  vestments, 
sacred  trumpets  —  He  chose  this  one  alone;  the  most 
homely,  the  most  universal,  the  most  innocent  of  all.  He 
might  have  chosen  the  peculiar  Nazarite  custom  of  the 
long  tresses  and  the  rigid  abstinence  by  which  Samson 
and  Samuel  and  John  had  been  dedicated  to  the  service 
of  the  Lord.  He  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  might 
have  continued  the  strange  and  painful  rite  of  circum- 
cision. He,  or  at  least  His  Apostles,  rejected  it  alto- 
gether. He  might  have  chosen  some  elaborate  ceremo- 
nial like  the  initiation  into  the  old  Egyptian  and  Grecian 
mysteries.  He  chose  instead  what  every  one  could  under- 
stand. He  took  what,  at  least  in  Eastern  and  Southern 
countries,  was  the  most  delightful,  the  most  ordinary, 
the  most  salutary,  of  social  observances. 


Chap.  I.]  AS   A   CLEANSING   RITE.  7 

1.  By  choosing  water  and  the  use  of  the  bath,  He  in- 
dicated one  chief  characteristic  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Whatever  else  the  Christian  was  to  be,  Bap- 
Baptism  as  a 
tism  1  —  the  use  of  water  —  showed  that  he  was  cleansing 

rite. 

to  be  clean  and  pure,  in  body,  soul,  and  spirit ; 
clean  even  in  body.  Cleanliness  is  a  duty  which  some  of 
the  monastic  communities  of  Christendom  have  despised, 
and  some  have  even  treated  as  a  crime.  But  such  was 
not  the  mind  of  Him  who  chose  the  washing  with  water 
for  the  prime  ordinance  of  His  followers.  "Wash  and  be 
clean  "  was  the  prophet's  admonition  of  old  to  the  Syrian 
whom  he  sent  to  bathe  in  the  river  Jordan.  It  was 
the  text  of  the  one  only  sermon  by  which  a  well-known 
geologist  of  this  country  was  known  to  his  generation. 
"  Cleanliness  next  to  godliness  "  was  the  maxim  of  the 
great  religious  prophet  of  England  in  the  last  century, 
John  Wesley.  With  the  Essenes,  amongst  whom  Bap- 
tism originated,  we  may  almost  say  that  it  was  godli- 
ness.2  If  the  early  Christians  had,  as  we  shall  see,  their 
daily  Communion,  the  Essenes,  for  the  sake  of  maintain- 
ing their  punctilious  cleanliness,  had  even  more  than 
daily  Baptism.  Every  time  that  we  see  the  drops  of 
water  poured  over  the  face  in  Baptism,  they  are  signs  to 
us  of  the  cleanly  habits  which  our  Master  prized  when 
He  founded  the  rite  of  Baptism,  and  when,  by  His  own 
Baptism  in  the  sweet  soft  stream  of  the  rapid  Jordan, 
He  blessed  the  element  of  water  for  use  as  the  best  and 
choicest  of  God's  natural  gifts  to  man  in  his  thirsty, 
weary,  wayworn  passage  through  the  dust  and  heat  of 

1  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  frequent  reference  to  "water"  in  St.  John's 
writings.  As  in  John  vi.  54,  the  phrases  "eating"  and  "drinking,"  "flesh 
and  blood,"  refer  to  the  spiritual  nourishment  of  which  the  Eucharist,  never 
mentioned  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  was  the  outward  expression,  so  in  John  iil.  5, 
the  word  "water"  refers  to  the  moral  purity  symbolized  by  Baptism,  which 
in  like  manner  (as  a  universal  institution)  is  never  mentioned  in  that  GospeL 

2  Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Church,  iii.  397. 


o  BAPTISM.  (Chap.  I. 

the  world.  But  the  cleanness  of  the  body,  in  the  adop- 
tion of 'Baptism  by  Christ  and  His  forerunner,  was  meant 
to  indicate  the  perfect  cleanness,  the  unsullied  purity  of 
the  soul ;  or,  as  the  English  Baptismal  Service  quaintly 
expresses  it,  the  mystical  washing  away  of  sin -7- that  is, 
the  wasliing,  cleansing  process  that  effaces  the  dark  spots 
of  selfishness  and  passion  in  the  human  character,  in 
which,  by  nature  and  by  habit,  they  had  been  so  deeply 
ingrained.  It  was  a  homely  maxim  of  Keble,  "Associate 
the  idea  of  sin  with  the  idea  of  dirt."  It  indicates  also 
that  as  the  Christian  heart  must  be  bathed  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  purity,  so  the  Christian  mind  must  be  bathed  in 
an  atmosphere  of  truth,  of  love  of  truth,  of  perfect  truth- 
fulness, of  transparent  veracity  and  sincerity.  What 
filthy,  indecent  talk  or  action  is  to  the  heart  and  affec- 
tions, that  a  lie  however  white,  a  fraud  however  pious,  is 
to  the  mind  and  conscience.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  is  said 
by  his  friends  to  have  had  the  whitest  soul  that  they  ever 
knew.  That  is  the  likeness  of  a  truly  Christian  soul  as 
indicated  by  the  old  baptismal  washing:  the  whiteness 
of  purity,  the  clearness  and  transparency  of  truth. 

There  was  one  form  of  this  idea  which  continued  far 
down  into  the  Middle  Ages,  long  after  it  had  been  disso- 
ciated from  Baptism,  but  which  may  be  given  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  same  idea  represented  by  the  same  form. 
The  order  of  knighthood  in  England,  of  which  the  ban- 
ners hang  in  King  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  which  is  distinguished  from  all  the 
other  orders  as  the  "  most  honorable,"  is  called  the  Order 
of  the  Bath.  This  name  was  given  because  in  the  early 
days  of  chivalry  the  knights,  who  were  enlisted  in  de- 
fence of  right  against  wrong,  truth  against  falsehood, 
honor  against  dishonor,  on  the  evening  before  they  were 
admitted  to  the   Order,  were  laid  in  a  bath  ^  and  thor- 

1  To  "dub"  a  knight  is  said  to  be  taken  from  "the  dip,"  "doob"  in  the 
bath.     Evelyn  saw  the  Knights  in  their  baths  (Diary,  April  19,  16G1). 


Chap.  I.]  AS  A   PLUNGE.  9 

oughly  washed,  in  order  to  show  how  bright  and  pure 
ought  to  be  the  Hves  of  those  who  engage  in  noble  enter- 
prises. Sir  Galahad,  amongst  King  Arthur's  Knights  of 
the  Round  Table,  is  the  type  at  once  of  a  true  ancient 
Knight  of  the  Bath  and  of  a  true  Apostolic  Christian. 

Mj'  good  blade  carves  the  helms  of  men, 

My  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure  ; 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 

Because  my  heart  is  pure. 

2.  This  leads  us  to  the  second  characteristic  of  the  act 
of  Baptism.  "  Baptism  "  was  not  only  a  bath,  but  a 
plunge  —  an  entire  submersion  in  the  deep  Baptism  as  a 
water,  a  leap  as  into  the  rolling  sea  or  the  rush-  pi"°s^- 
ing  river,  where  for  the  moment  the  waves  close  over  the 
bather's  head,  and  he  emerges  again  as  from  a  momen- 
tary grave ;  or  it  was  the  shock  of  a  shower-bath  —  the 
rush  of  water  passed  over  the  whole  person  from  capa- 
cious vessels,  so  as  to  wrap  the  recipient  as  within  the 
veil  of  a  splashing  cataract.^  This  was  the  part  of  the 
ceremony  on  which  the  Apostles  laid  so  much'  stress.  It 
seemed  to  them  like  a  burial  of  the  old  former  self  and 
the  rising  up  again  of  the  new  self.  So  St.  Paul  com- 
pared it  to  the  Israelites  passing  through  the  roaring 
waves  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  St.  Peter  to  the  passing 
through  the  deep  waters  of  the  flood.  "  We  are  buried," 
said  St.  Paul,  "with  Christ  by  baptism  at  his  death; 
that,  like  as  Christ  was  raised,  thus  we  also  should  walk 
in  the  newness  of  life."  ^  Baptism,  as  the  entrance  into 
the  Christian  society,  was  a  complete  change  from  the 
old  superstitions  or  restrictions  of  Judaism  to  the  freedom 
and  confidence  of  the  Gospel ;  from  the  idolatries  and 
profligacies  of  the  old  heathen  world  to  the  light  and 
purity  of  Christianity.  It  was  a  change  effected  only  by 
the  same  effort  and  struggle  as  that  with  which  a  strong 

1  See  Dr.  Smith's  History  of  Christian  Antiquities,  vol.  i.  p.  169. 

2  Rom.  vi.  4;  1  Cor.  x.  2;  1  Pet.  iii.  20,  21. 


10  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

swimmer  or  an  adventurous  diver  throws  himself  into 
the  stream  and  struggles  with  the  waves,  and  comes  up 
with  increased  energy  out  of  the  depths  of  the  dark 
abyss. 

This,  too,  is  a  lesson  taught  by  Baptism  which  still 
lives,  although  the  essence  of  the  material  form  is  gone. 
There  is  now  no  disappearance  as  in  a  watery  grave. 
There  is  now  no  conscious  and  deliberate  choice  made 
by  the  eager  convert  at  the  cost  of  cruel  partings  from 
friends,  perhaps  of  a  painful  death.  It  is  but  the  few 
drops  sprinkled,  a  ceremony  undertaken  long  before  or 
long  after  the  adoption  of  Christianity  has  occurred.  But 
the  thing  signified  by  the  ancient  form  still  keeps  be- 
fore us  that  which  Christians  were  intended  to  be.  This 
is  why  it  was  connected  both  in  name  and  in  substance 
with  "Conversion."  In  the  early  Church  the  careful  dis- 
tinction which  later  times  have  made  between  Baptism, 
Regeneration,  Conversion,  and  Repentance  did  not  exist. 
They  all  meant  the  same  thing.  In  the  Apostolic  age 
they  were,  as  we  have  seen,  absolutely  combined  with 
Baptism.  There  was  then  no  waiting  till  Easter  or  Pen- 
tecost for  the  great  reservoir  when  the  catechumens  met 
the  Bishop  —  the  river,  the  wayside  well  were  taken  the 
moment  the  convert  was  disposed  to  turn,  as  we  say,  the 
new  leaf  in  his  life.  And  even  afterwards,  in  the  second 
century.  Regeneration  (TraXtyycveo-ta),  which  gradually  was 
taken  to  be  the  equivalent  of  Baptism,  was,  in  the  first 
instance,  the  equivalent  of  Repentance  and  Con  version. ^ 
A  long  and  tedious  controversy  about  thirty  years  ago 
took  place  on  the  supposed   distinction  between  these 

1  As  a  general  rule,  in  the  writings  of  the  later  Fathers,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  word  which  we  translate  "  Regeneration  "  is  used  exclusively  for  Bap- 
tism. But  it  is  equally  certain  that  in  the  earlier  Fathers  it  is  used  for  Repent- 
ance, or,  as  we  should  now  say,  Conversion.  See  Clem.  Rom.  i.  9 ;  Justin. 
Dial,  in  Tryph.  p.  231,  b.  d.  ;  Clemens  Alex,  (apud  Eus.  H.  E.  iii.  23),  Strom. 
lib.  ii.  8,  425,  A. 


Chap.  I.]  AS   A   PLUNGE.  11 

words.  Such  a  controversy  would  have  been  unintelligi- 
ble to  Justin  Martyr  or  Clement  of  Alexandria.^  But 
the  common  idea  which  the  words  represent  is  still  as 
necessary,  and  has  played  as  great  a  part  in  the  later 
history  of  the  Church  as  it  did  at  the  beginning.^  Con- 
version is  the  turning  round  from  a  wrong  to  a  right  di- 
rection ;  Repentance  (yLteravota)  is  a  change  of  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  is  always  going  on  in  any  one  who 
reforms  himself  at  all ;  Regeneration  is  the  growth  of  a 
second  character,  always  recurring,  though  at  times  with 
a  more  sudden  shock.  With  us  these  changes  are 
brought  about  by  a  thousand  different  methods  ;  educa- 
tion, affliction,  illness,  change  of  position  in  life,  a  happy 

1  The  Gorham  litigation  of  1850,  which  turned  on  the  necessity  of  "  an  un- 
conditional regeneration  in  Baptism,"  has  now  drifted  into  the  limbo  of  extinct 
controversies.  The  epigram  of  Sir  George  Rose  and  the  judgment  of  Bishop 
Thirlwall  had  indeed  sealed  its  doom  at  the  time.  I  quote  a  sentence  from 
each :  — 

"  Bishop  and  vicar, 
Why  do  you  bicker 

Each  with  the  other, 
When  both  are  right, 
Or  each  is  quite 
As  wrong  as  the  other?  " 

The  Gorham  Judgment  Versified. 

"  In  no  part  of  the  controversy  was  it  stated  in  what  sense  the  word  '  Regen- 
eration '  was  understood  bj'  either  party.  In  no  other  instance  has  there  been 
so  great  a  disproportion  between  the  intrinsic  moment  of  the  fact  and  the  excite- 
ment which  it  has  occasioned."  — Thirlwall,  Remains,  i.  153,  158. 

But  it  was  not  till  some  years  afterwards  that  the  wit  of  the  lawj'er  and  judg- 
ment of  the  Bishop  were  confirmed  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  Dr.  Mozley, 
afterwards  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Oxford,  had  in  his  calmer  moments 
reviewed  the  whole  question,  and  decided  that  the  decision  of  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil, so  vehemently  attacked  at  the  time  by  his  school  as  subversive  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  was  right,  and  that  its  opponents  had  wasted  their  fears  and  their 
indignation  in  behalf  of  a  phantom.  See  his  two  works  on  The  Auoustinian 
Doctrine  of  Predestination,  1855,  and  on  Baptismal  Regeneration,  1856. 

2  It  has  been  often  remarked  that  examples  of  such  total  renewal  of  character 
are  very  rare  outside  of  the  influence  of  Christianity.  But  (not  to  speak  of  Mo- 
hammedan and  Indian  instances)  a  striking  instance,  corresponding  almost  en- 
tirely to  the  conversions  in  Christendom,  has  been  pointed  out  —  that  of  Polemo, 
under  the  teaching  of  Xenocrates.  See  Horace,  Satires,  II.  iii.  254,  with  the 
annotations  from  Valerius  Maximus  and  Diogenes  Laertius. 


12  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

marriage,  a  new  field  of  usefulness  —  every  one  of  tliese 
gives  us  some  notion  of  the  early  Baptism  in  its  better 
and  more  permanent  side,  and  in  every  one  of  these  that 
better  side  of  the  early  Baptism  may  be  reproduced. 
We  lie  down  to  sleep,  and  we  wake  up  and  find  ourselves 
new  creatures,  with  new  hopes,  new  affections,  new  in- 
terests, new  aspirations.  Every  such  case  which  we  have 
known,  every  such  experience  in  ourselves,  helps  us 
better  to  understand  what  Baptism  once  was;  and  the 
recollection  of  that  original  Baptism  helps  us  better  to 
apply  to  ourselves  the  language  of  the  Bible  concerning 
it  —  to  that  which  now  most  nearly  resembles  it.  We 
must,  if  we  would  act  in  the  spirit  of  the  Apostolic  Bap- 
tism, be  not  once  only,  but  "  continually,"  "  mortifying," 
that  is,  killing,  drowning,  burning  out  our  selfish  affec- 
tions and  narrow  prejudices ;  and  not  once  only,  but 
"daily,"  proceeding,  —  daily  renewed  and  born  again  in 
all  virtue  and  godliness  of  living,  all  strength  and  up- 
rightness of  character. 

3.  And  this  brings  us  to  the  third  characteristic  of  the 
early  Baptism.  "  Baptism,"  says  the  English  Baptismal 
Service,  "  doth  represent  unto  us  our  Christian  profession, 
which  is  to  follow  Christ  and  to  be  made  like  unto  him." 
This  is  the  element  added  to  the  Baptism  of  John.  In 
the  first  two  characteristics  of  Baptism  which  we  have 
mentioned,  water  as  signifying  cleanliness  of  body  and 
mind,  and  immersion  as  indicating  the  plunge  into  a  new 
life,  the  Baptism  of  John  and  the  Baptism  of  Christ 
are  identical.  John's  Baptism,  no  less  than  Christian 
Baptism,  was  the  Baptism  of  purity,  of  regeneration,  "  of 
remission  of  sins."  ^  But  Christ  added  yet  this  further  ; 
that  the  new  atmosphere  into  which  they  rose  was  to  be 
the  atmosphere  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  This  was  ex- 
pressed to  the  Christians  of  the  first  centuries  in  two 

1  Luke  iii.  3. 


Chap.  I.]  AS   AN    IMITATION    OF    CHRIST.  lo 

ways:  First,  when  they  came  up  from  the  waters,  naked 
and  shivering,  from  the  cold  pkinge  into  the  bath  or 
river,  they  were  wrapped  round  in  a  white  robe,  and 
this  suggested  the  thought  that  the  recipients  of  Baptism 
put  on  —  that  is,  were  clothed,  wrapped,  enveloped  in  — 
the  fine  linen,  white  and  clean,  which  is  the  goodness  and 
righteousness  of  Christ  and  of  His  saints,  not  by  any  fic- 
titious transfer,  but  in  deed  and  in  truth  ;  His  character, 
His  grace.  His  mercy.  His  truthfulness  were  to  be  the 
clothing,  the  uniform,  the  badge,  the  armor  of  those  who 
by  this  act  enrolled  themselves  in  His  service.  And, 
secondly,  this  was  what  made  Baptism  especially  a  "  Sac- 
rament." It  is  common  now  to  speak  of  the  Eucharist  as 
'■'■the  Sacrament."  But  in  the  early  ages  it  was  rather 
Baptism  which  was  the  special  Sacrament  (^sacraynen- 
tuiTi),  the  oath,  the  pledge  in  which,  as  the  soldiers  en- 
listing in  the  Roman  army  swore  a  great  oath  on  the  sa- 
cred eagles  of  allegiance  to  the  Emperor,  so  converts 
bound  themselves  by  a  great  oath  to  follow  their  Divine 
Commander  wherever  He  led  them.  And  this  was  fur- 
ther imposed  upon  them  by  the  name  in  which  they  were 
baptized.  It  was,  if  not  always,  yet  whenever  we  hear 
of  its  use  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  in  the  name  of  the 
'■'' Lord  Jesus."  ^  Doubtless  the  more  comprehensive  form 
in  which  Baptism  is  now  everywhere  administered  in  the 
threefold  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit,  soon  superseded  the  simpler  form  of  that  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  only.  But  the  earlier  use  points 
out  clearly  how,  along  with  the  all-embracing  love  of  the 
Universal  Father,  and  the  all-penetrating  presence  of  the 
Eternal  Spirit,  the  historical,  personal,  gracious,  endearing 

1  Acts  ii.  38,  viii.  16,  x.  48.  The  form  of  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost,  though  found  in  early  times,  was  not  universal.  Cyprian  lirst  and 
Pope  Nicholas  I.  afterwards  acknowledged  the  validity  of  Baptism  "  In  the  name 
of  the  Lord  Jesus."  See  Dr.  Smith's  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities,  vol. 
i.  p.  162. 


14  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

form  of  the  Founder  of  the  Faith  was  the  first  and  lead- 
ing thought  that  was  phmted  in  the  mind  of  the  early- 
Christians  as  they  rose  out  of  the  font  of  their  first  im- 
mersion to  enter  on  their  new  and  difficult  course. 

It  has  thus  far  been  intended  to  show  what  is  the 
essential  meaning  of  the  early  Baptism  which  has  en- 
dured through  all  its  changes.  And  it  is  in  full  ac- 
cordance with  the  primitive  records  of  Christianity  to 
dwell  on  these  essentials  as  distinct  from  its  forms.  It  is 
not  by  the  water,  much  or  little,  but  by  the  Spirit  (as  it 
is  expressed  in  the  Fourth  Gospel),  ^  that  the  second 
birth  of  man  is  wrought  in  the  heart.  It  is  not  by  the 
putting  away  the  natural  filth  of  the  outward  flesh,^  but 
(as  it  is  expressed  in  the  First  Epistle  of  St.  Peter)  by 
the  inward  questioning  of  a  good  conscience  towards 
God,  that  Baptism  can  ever  save  any  one.  It  was  not  by 
the  act  of  baptizing,  but  by  proclaiming  the  glad  tidings 
of  the  kingdom  of  God,  that  the  world  was  converted. 
Jesus,^  we  are  told,  never  baptized,  and  Paul  thanked 
God  that,  with  a  few  insignificant  exceptions,  he  baptized 
none  of  the  Corinthians. 

II.  But  there  is  the  further  instruction  to  be  derived 
from  a  nearer  view  of  the  changes  through  which  the 
forms  passed. 

1.  First  there  are  the  curious  notions  which  have  con- 
gregated round  the  ceremony,  and  which  have  almost  en- 
tirely passed  away.  There  was  the  belief  in 
opinion  on  early  ages  that  it  was  like  a  magical  charm, 
which  acted  on  the  persons  who  received  it, 
without  any  consent  or  intention  either  of  administrator 
or  recipient,  as  in  the  case  of  children  or  actors  perform- 
ing the  rite  with  no  serious  intention.     There  was  also 

1  John  iii.  5-8. 

2  See  Professor  Plumptre's  Notes  on  1  Peter  iii.  21. 
8  Joiiniv.  2;  1  Cor.  i.  14-16. 


Chap.  I.]  ANCIENT   OPINIONS  OF   ITS  NECESSITY.  15 

the  belief  that  it  wiped  away  all  sins,  however  long  they 
had  been  accumulating,  and  however  late  it  was  ad- 
ministered. This  is  illustrated .  by  the  striking  instance 
of  the  postponement  of  the  baptism  of  the  first  Christian 
Emperor  Constantine,  who  had  presided  S,t  the  Council  of 
Nicsea,  pi-eached  in  churches,  directed  the  whole  religion 
of  the  empire,  and  yet  was  all  the  while  unbaptized  till 
the  moment  of  his  death,  when,  in  the  last  hours  of  his 
mortal  illness,  the  ceremony  was  performed  by  Eusebius 
of  Nicomedia.  There  was  also  the  belief,  in  the  third 
and  fourth  centuries  almost  as  firmly  fixed  as  the  corre- 
sponding belief  in  regard  to  the  Eucharist,  that  the  water 
was  changed  into  the  blood  of  Christ. 

There  was  the  yet  more  strange  persuasion  that  no  one 
could  be  saved  unless  he  had  passed  through  the  immer- 
sion of  Baptism.  It  was  not  the  effect  of  divine  grace 
upon  the  soul,  but  of  the  actual  water  upon  the  body,  on 
which  those  ancient  Baptists  built  their  hopes  of  im- 
mortality. If  only  the  person  of  a  human  being  be  wrapt 
in  the  purifying  element,  he  was  thought  to  be  redeemed 
from  the  uncleanness  of  his  birth.  The  boy  Athanasius 
throwing  water  in  jest  over  his  playmate  on  the  sea-shore 
performed,  as  it  was  believed,  a  valid  baptism  ;  the 
Apostles  in  the  spray  of  the  storm  on  the  sea  of  Galilee, 
the  penitent  thief  in  the  water  that  rushed  from  the 
wound  of  the  Crucified,  were  imagined  to  have  received 
the  baptism  which  had  else  been  withheld  from  them. 
And  this  "washing  of  water"  was  now  deemed  absolutely 
necessary  for  salvation.  No  human  being  could  pass  into 
the  presence  of  God  hereafter  unless  he  had  passed 
through  the  waters  of  baptism  here.  "  This,"  says  Vos- 
sius,  "  is  the  judgment  of  all  antiquity,  that  they  perish 
everlastingly  who  will  not  be  baptized,  when  they  may." 
From  this  belief  followed  gradually,  but  surely,  the  con- 
clusion that  the  natural  end  not  only  of  all  heathens,  but 


16  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

of  all  the  patriarchs  and  saints  of  the  Old  Testament, 
was  in  the  realms  of  perdition.  And,  further,  the  Pela- 
gian controversy  drew  out  the  mournful  doctrine,  that  in-- 
fants,  dying  before  baptism,  were  excluded  from  the  Di- 
vine presence — "the  doctrine  when  expressed  in  its  dark- 
est form,  that  they  were  consigned  to  everlasting  fire. 
At  the  close  of  the  fifth  centui-y  this  belief  had  become 
universal,  chiefly  through  the  means  of  Augustine.  It 
was  the  turning-point  of  his  contest  with  Pelagius.  It 
was  the  dogma  from  which  nothing  could  induce  him  to 
part.  It  was  this  which  he  meant  by  insisting  on  "  the 
remission  of  original  sin  in  infant  baptism."  In  his 
earlier  years  he  had  doubted  whether,  possibly,  he  might 
not  leave  it  an  open  question ;  but  in  his  full  age,  "  God 
forbid,"  said  he,  "  that  I  should  leave  the  matter  so."  The 
extremest  case  of  a  child  dying  beyond  the  reach  of  bap- 
tism is  put  to  him,  and  he  decides  against  it.  In  the 
Fifth  Council  of  Carthage,  the  milder  view  is  mentioned 
of  those  who,  reposing  on  the  gracious  promise,  "  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions,"  trusted  that  among 
those  many  mansions,  there  might  still  be  found,  even 
for  those  infants  who,  by  want  of  baptism,  were  shut  out 
from  the  Divine  presence,  some  place  of  shelter.  That 
milder  view,  doubtless  under  Augustine's  influence,  was 
anathematized.  Happily,  this  dark  doctrine  was  never 
sanctioned  by  the  formal  Creeds  of  the  Church.  On  this, 
as  on  every  other  point  connected  with  the  doctrine  of 
Baptism,  they  preserved  a  silence,  whether  by  design,  in- 
difference, or  accident,  we  know  not.  But  among  the 
individual  Fathers  from  the  time  of  Augustine  it  seems 
impossible  to  dispute  the  judgment  of  the  great  English 
authority  on  Baptism :  "  How  hard  soever  this  opinion 
may  seem,  it  is  the  constant  opinion  of  the  ancients."  ^ 

1  Wall's  History  of  Infant  Baptism,  vol.  i.  p.  200.  In  this  work,  and  in 
Bingham's  Antiquities,  will  be  found  most  of  the  authorities  for  the  statements 
in  the  text. 


CiiAP.  I.]  ANCIENT    OPINIONS   OF   ITS   NECESSITY.  17 

"  I  am  sorry,"  says  Bishop  Hall,  and  we  share  his  sorrow, 
"  that  so  harsh  an  opinion  should  be  graced  with  the 
name  of  a  father  so  reverend,  so  divine  —  whose  sentence 
yet  let  no  man  plead  by  halves."  All  who  profess  to  go 
by  the  opinion  of  the  ancients  and  thg  teaching  of  Augus- 
tine must  be  prepared  to  believe  that  immersion  is  es- 
sential to  the  efficacy  of  baptism,  that  unbaptized  infants 
must  be  lost  forever,  that  baptized  infants  must  receive 
the  Eucharist,  or  be  lost  in  like  manner.  For  this,  too, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  was  yet  a  necessary  consequence 
of  the  same  materializing  system.  "  He  who  held  it  im- 
possible "  (we  again  use  the  words  of  Bishop  Hall)  "  for 
a  child  to  be  saved  unless  the  baptismal  water  were 
poured  on  his  face,  held  it  also  as  impossible  for  the 
same  infant  unless  the  sacramental  bread  were  received 
in  his  mouth.  And,  lest  any  should  plead  different  in- 
terpretations, the  same  St.  Augustine  avers  this  later 
opinion  also,  touching  the  necessary  communicating  of 
children,  to  have  been  once  the  common  judgment  of  the 
Church  of  Rome."  1 

Such  were  the  doctrines  of  the  Fathers  on  Infant 
Baptism,  —  doctrines  so  deeply  affecting  our  whole  con- 
ceptions of  God  and  of  man,  that,  in  comparison,  the 
gravest  questions  of  late  times  shrink  into  insignificance, 
—  doctrines  so  different  from  those  professed  by  any 
English,  we  may  almost  add  any  European,  clergyman, 
of  the  present  day,  that  had  the  Pope  himself  appeared 
before  the  Bishop  of  HijDpo,  he  would  have  been  rejected 
at  once  as  an  unbaptized  heretic. 

It  is  a  more  pleasing  task  to  trace  the  struggle  of 
Christian  goodness  and  wisdom,  by  which  the  Church 
was  gradually  delivered  from  this  iron  yoke.  No  doc- 
trine has  ever  arisen  in  the  Chui'ch  more  entirely  con- 
trary to  the  plainest  teaching  of  its  original  documents. 

1  Bishop  Hall's  Letter  to  the  Lady  Honoria  Hay. 
2 


18  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  1. 

In  the  Old  Testament,  especially  in  the  Psalms,^  —  where 
the  requisites  of  moral  life  are  enumerated  as  alone  nec- 
essary to  propitiate  the  Divine  favor,  —  it  is  needless  to 
say  that  Baptism  is  never  mentioned.  In  the  New  Tes- 
tament the  highest  blessings  are  pronounced  on  those 
who,  whether  children  or  adults,^  had  never  been  bap- 
tized. Even  in  the  Patristic  age  itself  (in  its  earlier  stage) 
the  recollection  of  the  original  freedom  of  Christianity 
had  not  quite  died  out.  Tertullian  must  have  accepted 
with  hesitation,  if  he  accepted  at  all,  the  universal  con- 
demnation of  unbaptized  children.  Salvian,  who  acknowl- 
edged freely  the  virtues  of  the  Vandal  heretics,  must 
have  scrupled  to  repudiate  the  virtues  of  the  unbaptized 
heathens.  No  General  or  Provincial  Council,  except  the 
Fifth  of  Carthage,  ventured  to  affirm  any  doctrine  on  the 
subject.  The  exception  in  behalf  of  martyrs  left  an  open- 
ing, at  least  in  principle,  which  would  by  logical  conse- 
quence admit  other  exceptions,  of  which  the  Fathers 
never  dreamed.  The  saints  of  the  Old  Testament  were 
believed  to  have  been  rescued  from  their  long  prison- 
house  by  the  hypothesis  of  a  liberation  effected  for  them 
through  the  Descent  into  Hell.  But  these  were  contra- 
dictions and  exceptions  to  the  prevailing  doctrine  ;  and 
the  gloomy  period  which  immediately  followed  the  death 
of  Augustine,  fraught  as  it  was  with  every  imaginable 
horror  of  a  falling  empire,  was  not  likely  to  soften  the 
harsh  creed  which  he  had  bequeathed  to  it ;  and  the 
chains  which  the  "  durus  pater  infantum "  had  thrown 
round  the  souls  of  children  were  riveted  by  Gregory  the 
Great.  At  last,  however,  with  the  new  birth  of  the 
European  nations  the  humanity  of  Christendom  revived. 
One  by  one  the  chief  strongholds  of  the  ancient  belief 

1  See  Psalms  xv.  xix.  xxiv.  cxix.  . 

2  Matt.  V.  1-11,  vii.  24,  25,  viii.  10,  11,  xii.  50,  xviii.  3-5,  xxv.  34-39;  Mark 
X.  14;  Luke  xv.  32;  Joliu  xiv.  23;  Acts  x.  4,  44. 


Chap.  I.]  ANCIENT    OPINIONS    OF   ITS   NECESSITY.  19 

yielded  to  the  purer  and  loftier  instincts  (to  use  no  higher 
name)  which  guided  the  Christian  Church  in  its  onward 
progress,  dawning  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 
First  disappeared  the  necessity  of  immersion.  Then,  to 
the  Master  of  the  Sentences  we  owe  the  decisive  change 
of  doctrine  which  delivered  the  souls  of  infants  from  the 
everlasting  fire  to  which  they  had  been  handed  over  by 
Augustine  and  Fulgentius,  and  placed  them,  with  the 
heroes  of  the  heathen  world,  in  that  mild  Limbo  or 
Elysium  which  is  so  vividly  described  in  the  pages  of 
Dante.  Next  fell  the  practice  of  administering  to  them 
the  Eucharistic  elements.  Last  of  all,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  the  strong  though  silent  protest  against  the 
magical  theory  of  Baptism  itself  was  effected  in  the  post- 
ponement of  the  rite  of  Confirmation,  which,  down  to 
that  time,  had  been  regarded  as  an  essential  part  of 
Baptism,  and,  as  such,  was  administered  simultaneously 
with  it.  An  ineffectual  stand  was  made  in  behalf  of 
the  receding  doctrine  of  Augustine  by  Gregory  of  Rimini, 
known  amongst  his  "  seraphic  "  and  "  angelic  "  colleagues 
by  the  unenviable  title  of  "  Tormentor  Infantum  " ;  and 
some  of  the  severer  Reformers,  both  in  England  and 
Germany,  for  a  few  years  clung  to  the  sterner  view. 
But  the  victory  was  really  won ;  and  .the  Council  of 
Trent,  no  less  than  the  Confession  of  Augsburg  and  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  has  virtually  abandoned  the  posi- 
tion, by  which  Popes  and  Fathers  once  maintained  the 
absolute,  unconditional,  mystical  efficacy  of  sacramental 
elements  on  the  body  and  soul  of  the  unconscious  infant. 
The  Eastern  Church,  indeed,  with  its  usual  tenacity  of 
ancient  forms,  still  immerses,  still  communicates,  and  still 
confirms  its  infant  members.  But  in  the  Western  Church 
the  Christian  religion  has  taken  its  more  natural  course  ; 
and  in  the  boldness  which  substituted  a  few  drops  of  water 
for  the  ancient  bath,  which  pronounced  a  charitable  judg- 


20  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

ment  on  the  innocent  babes  who  die  without  the  sacra- 
ments, which  restored  to  the  Eucharist  something  of  its 
orighial  intention,  and  gave  to  Confirmation  a  meaning 
of  its  own,  by  deferring  both  these  solemn  rites  to  years 
of  discretion,  we  have  at  once  the  best  proof  of  the  total 
and  necessary  divergence  of  modern  from  ancient  doc- 
trine, and  the  best  guarantee  that  surely,  though  slowly, 
the  true  wisdom  of  Christianity  will  be  justified  of  all 
her  children. 

"  The  constant  opinion  of  the  ancients  "  in  favor  of  the 
unconditional  efficacy  and  necessity  of  Baptism  has  been 
happily  exchanged  for  a  constant  opinion  of  the  moderns, 
which  has  almost,  if  not  entirely,  spread  through  Chris- 
tendom. No  doubt  traces  of  the  old  opinion  may  occa- 
sionally be  found.  It  is  said  that  a  Roman  peasant,  on 
receiving  a  remonstrance  for  spinning  a  cockchafer,  re- 
plied, with  a  complete  assurance  of  conviction,  "  There 
is  no  harm  in  doing  it.  Non  ^  cosa  battezzata."  —  "  It 
is  not  baptized  stuff."  "  They  are  not  baptized  things  " 
is  the  reply  which  many  a  scholastic  divine  would  have 
made  to  the  complaint  that  Socrates  and  Marcus  Aurelius 
were  excluded  from  Paradise.  The  French  peasants,  we 
are  told,  regard  their  children  before  baptism  simply  as 
animals.^  Even  in  the  English  Church  we  sometimes 
hear  a  horror  expressed  by  some  excellent  clergymen  at 
using  any  religious  words  over  the  graves  of  unbaptized 
persons.  The  rubric  which,  in  the  disastrous  epoch  of 
1662,  was  for  the  first  time  introduced  into  the  English 
Prayer  Book,  forbidding  the  performance  of  its  burial 
service  over  the  unbaptized,  which  till  then  had  been 
permitted,  still,  through  the  influence  of  the  Southern 
Convocation,  maintains  its  place.  But  these  are  like  the 
ghosts  of  former  beliefs  —  lingering  in  dens  and  caves  of 
the  Church,  visiting  here  and  there  their  ancient  haunts, 
1  Round  my  House,  by  P.  G.  Haraerton,  pp.  254,  263. 


Chap.  I.]  CHANGE   FROM   IMMERSION.  21 

but  almost  everywhere  receding,  if  slowly  yet  inevitably- 
from  the  light  of  day. 

Such  changes  on  such  a  momentous  subject  are  amongst 
the  most  encouraging  lessons  of  ecclesiastical  history. 
They  show  how  variable  and  contradictory,  and  therefore 
hoAV  capable  of  improvement,  has  been  the  theology  of 
the  Catholic  as  well  as  of  the  Protestant  Churches,  and 
how  pregnant,  therefore,  are  the  hopes  for  the  future  of 
both. 

2.  We  now  pass  to  the  changes  in  the  form  itself.  For 
the  first  thirteen  centuries  the  almost  universal  practice 
of  Baptism  was  that  of  which  we  read  in  the  immersion 
New  Testament,  and  which  is  the  very  mean-  forspriit. 
ing  of  the  word  "baptize,"  ^  —  that  those  who  ''°s- 
were  baptized  were  phmged,  submerged,  immersed  into 
the  water.  That  practice  is  still,  as  we  have  seen,  con- 
tinued in  Eastern  Churches.  In  the  Western  Church  it 
still  lingers  amongst  Roman  Catholics  in  the  solitary  in- 
stance of  the  cathedral  of  Milan;  amongst  Protestants  in 
the  numerous  sect  of  the  Baptists.  It  lasted  long  into 
the  Middle  Agces.  Even  the  Icelanders,  who  at  first 
shrank  from  the  water  of  their  freezing  lakes,  were  rec- 
onciled when  they  found  that  they  could  use  the  warm 
water  of  the  Geysers.  And  the  cold  climate  of  Russia 
has  not  been  found  an  obstacle  to  its  continuance  through- 
out .that  vast  empire.  Even  in  the  Church  of  England 
it  is  still  observed  in  theory.  The  rubric  in  the  Public 
Baptism  for  Infants  enjoins  that,  unless  for  special  causes, 
they  are  to  be  dipped,  not  sprinkled.  Edward  the  Sixth 
and  Elizabeth  were  both  immersed.  But  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  practice  has  be- 
come exceedingly  rare.  With  the  few  exceptions  just 
mentioned,  the  whole  of  the  Western  Churches  have  now 
substituted  for  the  ancient  bath  the  ceremony  of  letting 

1  It  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  taufen  ("  dip  "). 


22  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

fall  a  few  drops  of  water  on  the  face.  The  reason  of 
the  change  is  obvious.  The  practice  of  immersion, 
though  peculiarly  suitable  to  the  Southern  and  Eastern 
countries  for  which  it  was  designed,  was  not  found  sea- 
sonable in  the  countries  of  the  North  and  West.  Not  by 
any  decree  of  Council  or  Parliament,  but  by  the  general 
sentiment  of  Christian  liberty,  this  remarkable  change 
was  effected.  Beginning  in  the  thirteenth  century,  it 
has  gradually  driven  the  ancient  Catholic  usage  out  of 
the  whole  of  Europe.  There  is  no  one  who  would  now 
wish  to  go  back  to  the  old  practice.  It  followed,  no 
doubt,  the  example  of  the  Apostles  and  of  their  Master. 
It  has  the  sanction  of  the  venerable  Churches  of  the 
early  ages,  and  of  the  sacred  countries  of  the  East. 
Baptism  by  sprinkling  was  rejected  by  the  whole  ancient 
Church  (except  in  the  rare  case  of  death-beds  or  extreme 
necessity)  as  no  baptism  at  all.  Almost  the  first  excep- 
tion was  the  heretic  Novatian.  It  still  has  the  sanction 
of  the  powerful  religious  community  which  numbers 
amongst  its  members  such  noble  characters  as  John  Bun- 
yan,  Robert  Hall,  and  Havelock.  In  a  version  of  the 
Bible  which  the  Baptist  Church  has  compiled  for  its  own 
use  in  America,  where  it  excels  in  numbers  all  but  the 
Methodists,  it  is  thought  necessary,  and  on  philological 
grounds  it  is  quite  correct,  to  translate  "  John  the  Bap- 
tist" by  "John  the  Immerser."  It  has  even  been  de- 
fended on  sanitary  grounds.  Sir  John  Floyer  dated  the 
prevalence  of  consumption  to  the  discontinuance  of  bap- 
tism by  immersion.^  But,  speaking  generally,  the  Chris- 
tian civilized  world  has  decided  against  it.  It  is  a 
striking  example  of  the  triumph  of  common  sense  and 
convenience  over  the  bondage  of  form  and  custom.  Per- 
haps no  greater  change  has  ever  taken  place  in  the  out- 
ward  form  of   Christian   ceremony  with    such   general 

1  ArchoBological  Journal,  No.  113,  p.  77. 


Chap.  I.]  CHANGE   FROM   IMMERSION.  23 

agreement.  It  is  a  larger  change  even  than  that  which 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  made  in  administering 
the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  bread  without 
the  wine.  For  whilst  that  was  a  change  which  did  not 
affect  the  thing  that  was  signified,  the  change  from  im- 
mersion to  sprinkling  has  set  aside  the  most  of  the  Apos- 
tolic expressions  regarding  Baptism,  and  has  altered  the 
very  meaning  of  the  word.  But  whereas  the  withhold- 
ing of  the  cup  produced  the  long  and  sanguinary  war  of 
Bohemia,  and  has  been  one  of  the  standing  grievances  of 
Protestants  against  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  the 
withdrawal  of  the  ancient  rite  of  immersion,  decided  by 
the  usage  of  the  whole  ancient  Church  to  be  essential  to 
the  sacrament  of  Baptism,  has  been,  with  the  exception 
of  the  insurrection  of  the  Anabaptists  of  Miinster,  con- 
ceded almost  without  a  struggle.  The  whole  transaction 
shows  the  wisdom  of  refraining  from  the  enforcement  of 
the  customs  of  other  regions  and  other  climates  on  un- 
willing recipients.  It  shows  how  the  spirit  which  lives 
and  moves  in  human  society  can  override  even  the  most 
Saci'ed  ordinances.  It  remains  an  instructive  example  of 
the  facility  and  silence  with  which,  in  matters  of  form, 
even  the  widest  changes  can  be  effected  without  any 
serious  loss  to  Christian  truth,  and  with  great  advantage 
to  Christian  solemnity  and  edification.  The  substitution 
of  sprinkling  for  immersion  must  to  many  at  the  time,  as 
to  the  Baptists  ^  now,  have  seemed  the  greatest  and  most 
dangerous  innovation.  Now,  by  most  Catholics  and  by 
most  Protestants,  it  is  regarded  almost  as  a  second  nat- 
ure. 

3.  Another  change  is  not  so  complete,  but  is  perhaps 
more  important.     In  the  Apostolic  age,  and  in  the  three 

1  How  dangerous  this  change  is  regarded  bj'  the  excellent  community  of  Bap- 
tists has  been  strongly  brought  out  by  the  horror  which  this  Essay  has  occa- 
Bioned  amongst  them  since  it  was  originally  published. 


24  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

centuries  which  followed,  it  is  evident  that,  as  a  general 
rule,  those  who  came  to  baptism  came  in  full  age,  of 
their  own  deliberate  choice.  We  find  a  few 
from  adult  cascs  of  the  baptism  of  children  ;  in  the  third 
infant  Bap-  ccutury  we  find  one  case  of  the  baptism  of  in- 
fants. Even  amongst  Christian  households  the 
instances  of  Chrysostom,  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Basil, 
Ephrem  of  Edessa,  Augustine,  Ambrose,  are  decisive 
proofs  that  it  was  not  only  not  obligatory  but  not  usual. 
All  these  distinguished  personages  had  Christian  parents, 
and  yet  were  not  baptized  till  they  reached  maturity. 
The  old  liturgical  service  of  Baptism  was  framed  for  full- 
grown  converts,  and  is  only  by  considerable  adaptation 
applied  to  the  case  of  infants.  Gradually  the  practice  of 
baptizing  infants  spread,  and  after  the  fifth  century  the 
whole  Christian  world,  East  and  West,  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  Episcopal  and  Presbyterian  (with  the  single 
exception  of  the  sect  of  the  Baptists  before  mentioned), 
have  adopted  it.  Whereas,  in  the  early  ages,  Adult  Bap- 
tism was  the  rule,  and  Infant  Baptism  the  exception,  in 
later  times  Infant  Baptism  ^  is  the  rule,  and  Adult  Bap- 
tism the  exception. 

What  is  the  justification  of  this  almost  universal  de- 
parture from  the  primitive  usage  ?  There  may  have 
been  many  reasons,  some  bad,  some  good.  One,  no 
doubt,  was  the  superstitious  feeling  already  mentioned 
which  regai'ded  Baptism  as  a  charm,  indispensable  to 
salvation,  and  which  insisted  on  imparting  it  to  every 
Iftiman  being  who  could  be  touched  with  water,  however 
unconscious.  Hence  the  eagerness  with  which  Roman 
Catholic  missionaries,  like  St.  Francis  Xavier,  have  made 
it  the  chief  glor}^  of  their  mission  to  baptize  heathen  pop- 

1  In  the  Church  of  England  there  was  no  ofHce  for  Adult  Baptism  in  the 
Prayer  Book  before  1662,  and  that  which  was  then  added  is  evidently  intended 
for  the  baptism  of  heathen  tril)es  collectively. 


Chap.  I.]  OF   INFANTS.  25 

Illations  wholesale,  in  utter  disregard  of  the  primitive  or 
Protestant  practice  of  long  previous  preparation.^  Hence 
the  capture  of  children  for  baptism  without  the  consent 
of  their  parents,  as  in  the  celebrated  case  of  the  Jewish 
boy  Mortara.  Hence  the  curious  decision  uf  the  Sor- 
bonne  quoted  in  "  Tristram  Shandy."  Hence  in  the 
early  centuries,  and  still  in  the  Eastern  Churches,  coex- 
tensive with  Infant  Baptism,  the  practice  of  Infant  Com- 
munion, both  justified  on  the  same  grounds,  and  both 
based  on  the  mechanical  application  of  Biblical  texts  to 
cases  which  by  their  very  nature  were  not  contemplated 
in  the  Apostolic  age. 

But  there  is  a  better  side  to  the  growth  of  this  practice 
which,  even  if  it  did  not  mingle  in  its  origin,  is  at  least 
the  cause  of  its  continuance.  It  lay  deep  in  early  Chris- 
tian feeling  that  the  fact  of  belonging  to  a  Christian 
household  consecrated  every  member  of  it.  Whether 
baptized  or  not,  the  Apostle  ^  urged  that,  because  the 
parents  were  holy,  therefore  the  children  were  holy. 
They  were  not  to  be  treated  as  outcasts  ;  they  were  not 
to  be  treated  as  heathens ;  they  were  to  be  recognized  as 
part  of  the  chosen  people.  This  passage,  whilst  it  is  con- 
clusive against  the  practice  of  Infant  Baptism  in  the 
Apostolic  age,  is  a  recognition  of  the  legitimate  reason 
and  permanent  principle  on  which  it  is  founded.  It  is 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  Christian  saintliness  and 
union  of  family  life.  The  goodness,  the  holiness,  the 
purity  of  a  Chri^stian  fireside,  of  a  Christian  marriage,  of 
a  good  death-bed,  extends  to  all  those  who  come  within 
its  reach.  As  we  are  all  drawn  nearer  to  each  other  by 
the  natural  bonds  of  affection,  so  we  are  drawn  still 
nearer  when  these  bonds  of   affection  are  cemented  by 

1  See  a  powerful  description  of  this  mode  of  baptism  in  Lord  Elgin's  Lift 
and  Letters,  ed.  bj'  Theodore  Walrond,  p.  338. 

2  1  Cor.  vii.  U. 


26  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

Christianity.  Every  gathering,  therefore,  for  the  chris- 
tening of  a  little  child  is  truly  a  family  gathering.  It 
teaches  us  how  closely  we  are  members  one  of  another. 
It  teaches  parents  how  deeply  responsible  they  are  for 
the  growth  of  that  little  creature  throughout  its  future 
education.  It  teaches  brothers  and  sisters  how  by  them 
is  formed  the  atmosphere,  good  or  bad,  in  which  the  soul 
of  their  little  new-born  brother  or  sister  is  trained  to 
good  or  to  evil.  It  teaches  us  the  value  of  the  purity  of 
those  domestic  relations  in  which  from  childhood  to  old 
age  all  our  best  thoughts  are  fostered  and  encouraged. 
It  also  surmounts  and  avoids  the  difficulty  which  encom- 
passes Adult  Baptism  in  any  country  or  society  already 
impregnated  with  Christian  influences.  If  the  New 
Testament  has  no  example  of  Infant  Baptism,  neither 
has  it  any  example  of  adult  Christian  Baptism  ;  that  is, 
of  the  baptism  of  those  who  had  been  already  born  and 
bred  Christians.  The  artificial  formality  of  a  Baptismal 
Service  for  those  who  in  our  time  have  grown  up  as 
Christians  is  happily  precluded  by  the  administration  of 
the  rite  at  the  commencement  of  the  natural  life. 

But  there  is  a  further  reason  to  be  found  in  the  char- 
acter of  children.  This  is  contained  in  the  Gospel  which 
is  read  in  the  Baptismal  Service  for  infants  throughout 
the  Western  Church.^  In  the  early  ages  there  probably 
were  those  who  doubted  Avhether  children  could  be  re- 
garded worthy  to  be  dedicated  to  God  or  to  Christ.  The 
answer  is  very  simple.  If  our  Divine  Master  did  not 
think  them  unfit  to  bo  taken  in  Ilis  arms  and  receive  His 
own  gracious  blessing  whpn  He  was  actually  on  earth  in 
bodily  presence,  we  need  not  fear  to  ask  His  blessing 
upon  them  now. 

1  In  the  Enfjli^li  Cluircli  it  is  Mark  x.  13-16;  in  the  Roman  Church  it  is  Matt, 
xix.  13-15.  But  ill  tlie  Eastern  Chiiri-h  the  pass.iffcs  are  still  those  that  apply 
to  Adult  Baptism.  Horn.  vi.  3-12:  Matt,  xxviii.  lG-20. 


Chat.  I.]  OF  INFANTS.  27 

Infant  Baptism  is  thus  a  recognition  of  the  good  which 
there  is  in  every  human  soul.  It  declares  that  in  every 
child  of  Adam,  whilst  there  is  much  evil,  there  is  more 
good ;  whilst  there  is  much  which  needs  to  be  purified 
and  elevated,  there  is  much  also  which  in  itself  shows  a 
capacity  for  purity  and  virtue.  In  those  little  children  of 
Galilee,  all  unbaptized  as  they  were,  not  yet  even  within 
the  reach  of  a  Christian  family,  Jesus  Christ  saw  the 
likeness  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  ;  merely  because 
they  were  little  children,  merely  because  they  were  inno- 
cent human  beings,  He  saw  in  them  the  objects,  not  of 
divine  malediction,  but  of  divine  benediction.  Lord 
Palmerston  was  once  severely  attacked  for  having  said 
"  Children  are  born  good."  But  he,  in  fact,  only  said 
what  Chrysostom  had  said  before  him,  and  Chrysostom 
said  only  what  in  the  Gospels  had  been  already  said  of 
the  natural  state  of  the  unbaptized  Galilean  children, 
"  Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven."  The  substitution 
of  Infant  Baptism  for  Adult  Baptism,  like  the  change 
from  immersion  to  sprinkling,  is  thus  a  triumph  of  Chris- 
tian charity.  It  exemplifies  at  the  first  beginning  of  life 
that  Divine  Grace  which  hopes  all  things,  believes  all 
things,  endures  all  things.  In  each  such  little  child  our 
Saviour  saw,  and  we  may  see,  the  promise  of  a  glorious 
future.  In  those  little  hands  folded  in  unconscious  re- 
pose, in  those  bright  eyes  first  awakening  to  the  outer 
world,  in  that  soft  forehead  unfurrowed  by  the  ruffle  of 
care  or  sin.  He  saw,  and  we  may  see,  the  undeveloped 
rudimental  instruments  of  the  labor,  and  intelligence, 
and  energy  of  a  whole  life.  And  not  only  so  —  not  only 
in  hope,  but  in  actual  reality,  does  the  blessing  on  little 
children,  whether  as  expressed  in  the  Gospel  story,  or  as 
implied  in  Infant  Baptism,  acknowledge  the  excellency 
and  the  value  of  the  childlike  soul.  Not  once  only  in 
His  life,  but  again  and  again,  He  held  them  up  to  His 


28  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

disciples,  as  the  best  corrective  of  the  ambitions  and  pas- 
sions of  mankind.  He  exhorted  all  men  to  follow  their 
innocency,  their  unconsciousness,  tlieii-  guilelessness,  their 
truthfulness,  their  purity.  He  saw  in  them  the  regener- 
ating, sanctifying  element  of  every  family,  of  every  house- 
hold, of  every  nation.  He  saw,  and  we  may  see,  in  their 
natural,  unaffected,  simple,  unconstrained  acts  and  words 
the  best  antidote  to  the  artificial,  fantastic,  exclusive 
spirit  which  beset  the  Pharisees  of  His  own  time,  and 
must  beset  the  Pharisees,  whether  of  the  religious  or  of 
the  irreligious  world,  in  all  times.  Infant  Baptism  thus 
is  the  standing  testimony  to  the  truth,  the  value,  the  eter- 
nal significance  of  what  is  called  "  natural  religion,"  of 
what  Butler  calls  the  constitution  of  human  nature.  It 
is  also  in  a  more  special  sense  still  the  glorification  of 
children.  It  is  the  outward  expression  of  their  proper 
place  in  the  Christian  Church,  and  in  the  instincts  of  the 
civilized  world.  It  teaches  us  how  much  we  all  have  to 
learn  from  children,  how  much  to  enjoy,  how  much  to 
imitate.  It  is  the  response  to  all  that  poetr}'^  of  chil- 
dren which  in  our  days  has  been  specially  consecrated 
by  Wordsworth  and  by  Keble.^ 

When  we  see  what  a  child  is  —  how  helpless,  how 
trusting,  how  hopeful  —  the  most  hardened  of  men  must 
be  softened  by  its  presence,  and  feel  the  reverence  due  to 
its  tender  conscience  as  to  its  tender  limbs.  When  we 
remember  that  before  their  innocent  faces  the  demons  of 
selfishness,  and  impurity,  and  worldliness,  and  unchari- 
tableness  are  put  to  flight ;  when  we  hope  that  for  their 

1  It  is  instructive  to  observe  that  whilst  the  sentiments  of  the  two  poets  on  the 
natural  attractiveness  of  children  are  identical,  Keble  often  endeavors  to  force 
it  into  a  connection  with  Itaptisin  which  to  Wordsworth  is  almost  unknown. 
It  is  said  that  Wordsworth,  once  reading  with  admiration  a  well-known  poem 
in  the  Chrislinn  Year,  stumi)led  at  the  opening  lines,  "Where  is  it  mothers 
learn  their  love?"  (to  which  the  answer  is  "the  Font.")  "No,  no  "  said  the 
old  poet,  "  it  is  from  their  own  maternal  hearts." 


Chap.  I.]  OF  INFANTS.  29 

innocent  souls  there  is  a  place  in  a  better  world,  thougli 
they  are  ignorant  of  those  theological  problems  which 
rend  their  elders  asunder,  this  may  possibly  teach  us  that 
it  is  not  "  before  all  things  necessary  "  to  know  the  dif- 
ferences which  divide  the  Churches  of  the  East  or  "West, 
or  the  Churches  of  the  North  or  South.  When  we  tliink 
of  the  sweet  repose  of  a  child  as  it  lies  in  the  arms  of  its 
nurse,  or  its  pastor  at  the  font,  it  may  recall  to  us  the 
true  attitude  of  humble  trust  and  confidence  which  most 
befits  the  human  soul,  whether  of  saint  or  philosopher. 
"  Like  as  a  weaned  child  on  its  mother's  breast,  my  soul 
is  even  as  a  weaned  child."  When  we  meditate  on  the 
imperfect  knowledge  of  a  child,  it  is  the  best  picture  to 
us  of  our  imperfect  knowledge  in  this  mortal  state.  "  I 
am  but  as  a  little  child,"  said  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  "  pick- 
ing up  pebbles  on  the  shore  of  the  vast  ocean  of  truth." 
"When  I  was  a  child  —  when  I  was  an  infant,"  said  St. 
Paul,  "  I  spake  as  an  '  infant,'  I  thought  as  an  '  infant; ' 
but  when  I  became  a  man,  the  thoughts  and  the  spirit 
of  an  '  infant '  were  done  away."  This  thought  is  the 
pledge  of  a  perpetual  progress.  The  baptism  of  an  in- 
fant, as  the  birth  of  an  infant,  would  be  nothing  were  it 
not  that  it  includes  within  it  the  hope  and  the  assurance 
of  all  that  is  to  follow  after.  In  those  feeble  cries,  in 
those  unconscious  movements,  there  is  the  first  stirring  of 
the  giant  within  ;  the  first  dawn  of  that  reasonable  soul 
which  will  never  die  ;  the  first  budding  of 

The  seminal  form  which  in  the  deeps 
Of  that  little  chaos  sleeps. 

The  investment  of  this  first  beginning  with  a  religious 
and  solemn  character  teaches  us  that,  as  we  must  grow 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  so  also  we  must  grow  from  the 
infancy,  the  limited  perceptions,  the  narrow  faith,  the 
stunted  hope,  the  imperfect  knowledge,  the  straitened 
affections  of  the  infancy  of  this  mortal  state  to  the  full- 


30  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

grown  manhood  of  our  immortal  life.  It  suggests  that 
we  have  to  pass  from  the  momentary  baptism  of  uncon- 
scious infants  through  the  transforming  baptism  of  Fire 
and  the  Spirit  —  that  is,  of  Experience  and  of  Character 
—  which  is  wrought  out  through  the  many  vicissitudes  of 
life  and  the  great  cliange  of  death. 

4.  There  are  many  other  changes  consequent  on  the 
substitution  of  Infant  for  Adult  Baptism.  The  whole 
institution  of  sponsors  is  of  a  later  date.  In  the  early 
centuries  the  answers  as  a  general  rule  were  made  for 
the  child  by  the  parents.  In  later  times  the  practice  of 
transferring  to  a  child  the  dramatic  form  which  had  been 
originally  used  for  grown-up  converts  led  to  the  system 
of  sponsors.  And  the  pursuance  of  the  allegory  of  a  sec- 
ond birth  was  pushed  into  the  further  detail  of  placing 
the  sponsors  in  the  place  of  parents,  and  thus  creating  a 
new  series  of  affinities.  In  the  Roman  and  the  Eastern 
Church,  the  "  gossips  "  ^  cannot  intermarry  with  each 
other;  and  in  the  Middle  Ages  even  the  touch  of  the 
baptized  infant  was  believed  to  unite  in  this  spiritual  kin- 
dred. The  modern  system  of  sponsors,  whether  with 
or  without  these  elaborate  inquiries,  doubtless  has  some 
social  and  moral  advantages  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  over- 
look the  difficulties  which  so  complex  an  arrangement 
awakens  in  the  minds  of  the  uneducated,  and  it  was  with 
the  view  of  surmounting  these  entanglements  of  the  con- 
science and  understanding  that  the  late  Royal  Commis- 
sioners on  the  Rubrics  on  one  occasion  recommended  the 
permission  to  hold  the  whole  of  that  part  of  the  Baptis- 
mal Service  as  optional. 

The  connection  of  the  Christian  name  with  Baptism  is 
also  a  result  of  the  change.     Properly  speaking,  the  name 

1  This  word,  as  is  well-known,  expresses  "  the  God  sib  "  — the  religious  re- 
lationship—  of  the  several  parties,  and  has  acquired  its  secondary  sense  from 
the  tittle-tattle  of  christenings. 


Chap.  I.]  CHANGES   IN   THE   CEKEMONY.  31 

is  not  given  in  Baptism,  but,  having  been  already  given, 
it  is  announced  in  Baptism  as  the  name  by  which  the  in- 
dividuality and  personality  of  the  baptized  person  is  for 
the  first  time  publicly  recognized  in  the  Christian  assem- 
bly. In  the  case  of  the  Adult  Baptism  of  the  early  ages 
this  was  obvious.  Flavins  Constantinus  had  always  been 
Flavins  Constantinus,  and  Aurelius  Augustinus  always 
Aurelius  Augustinus.  It  was  only  when  the  time  of  the 
name-giving  and  of  the  baptism,  as  in  the  case  of  infants, 
so  nearly  coincided,  that  the  two  came  to  be  confounded. 

Confirmation,  which  once  formed  a  part  of  Baptism,  has 
been  separated  from  it,  and  turned  into  a  new  ordinance, 
which  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  been  made  into 
another  sacrament.  Along  with  this  disruption  between 
Confirmation  and  Baptism  has  taken  place  another 
change,  —  the  absolute  prohibition  throughout  the  West- 
ern Church  of  Infant  Communion,  which  in  the  early 
Church  was,  as  it  still  is  in  the  East,  the  inseparable  ac- 
companiment of  Infant  Baptism.  In  early  ages,  as  in  the 
Eastern  Church,  Confirmation  was  the  title  given  to  the 
unction  which  accompanied  Baptism  ;  in  the  later  Roman 
Church,^  and  in  most  Protestant  Churches,  it  is  the  title 
given  to  the  open  adoption  of  the  Christian  faith  and  life 
in  mature  years. 

Another  curious  series  of  changes  has  taken  place  in 
regard  to  the  persons  who  administered  Baptism.  In 
the  early  centuries  it  was  only  the  Bishop,  and  hence 
probably  has  originated  the  retention  by  the  Episcopal 
order  of  that  part  of  the  old  Baptism  which,  as  we  have 
just  said,  is  now  known  by  the  name  of  Confirmation. 
As  the  Episcopate  became  more  separate  from  the  Pres- 

1  In  ttie  Roman  Catholic  Church,  as  well  as  in  the  Church  of  Scotland,  includ- 
ing the  Episcopal  Church  in  Charles  the  Second's  time  (see  the  proceedings  of 
the  Synod  of  Dunblane),  the  preparation  for  Confirmation  is  virtually  superseded 
by  the  preparation  for  tlie  first  communion,  which  in  the  Roman  Church  pre- 
cedes Confirmation,  and  in  the  Scottish  Church  has  taken  its  place. 


82  BAPTISM.  [Chap.  I. 

byterate,  as  the  belief  in  the  paramount  necessity  of  Bap- 
tism became  stronger,  as  the  population  of  Christendom 
increased,  the  right  was  extended  to  Presbytei's,  then  to 
Deacons,  and  at  last  to  laymen,  and,  in  defiance  of  all 
early  usage,  to  women.  And  thus  it  has  happened  by 
one  of  those  curious  introversions  of  sentiment  which  are 
so  instructive  in  ecclesiastical  history,  that  whilst  in 
Protestant  Churches  which  lay  least  stress  on  the  out- 
ward rite,  the  administration  is  virtually  confined  to  the 
clergy,  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  which  lays  most 
stress  on  the  rite,  the  administration  is  extended  to  the 
laity  and  to  the  female  sex.  This  is  a  formidable  breach 
in  the  usual  theories  concerning  the  indispensable  neces- 
sity of  the  clerical  order  for  the  administration  of  the 
sacramental  rites,  and  it  is  difficult  to  justify  the  dif- 
ference in  principle  which  in  the  Roman  Church  has 
rendered  the  practice  with  regard  to  the  sacrament  of 
Baptism  so  exceedingly  lax,  with  regard  to  the  sacrament 
of  the  Eucharist  so  exceedingly  rigid. 

Such  are  some  of  the  general  reflections  suggested  by 
the  revolutions  through  which  the  oldest  ordinance  of  the 
Church  has  come  down  to  our  day.  They  may  possibly 
make  that  ordinance  more  intelligible  both  to  those  who 
adopt  and  to  those  who  have  not  adopted  it.  They  may 
also  serve  to  illustrate  the  transformation  both  of  letter 
and  spirit  through  w'hich  all  sacred  ordinances  which  re- 
tain any  portion  of  their  original  vitality  must  pass. 


CHAPTER  11. 

THE   EUCHAEIST. 

It  is  proposed  to  give  an  account  of  the  primitive  in- 
stitution of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  —  un- 
questionably the  greatest  religious  ordinance  of  the  world, 
whether  as  regards  its  almost  universal  adoption  in  the 
civilized  world,  or  the  passions  which  it  has  enkindled, 
or  the  opposition  which  it  has  evoked. 

Unlike  many  of  the  records  of  the  Gospel  story,  which 
from  the  variety  and  contradiction  of  the  narratives,  and 
from  the  question  as  to  the  date  and  authorship  of  the 
Gospels,  are  involved  in  difficulty,  the  narrative  of  the 
Institution  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is  preserved  to  us  on 
the  whole  with  singular  uniformity  in  the  three  first 
Gospels,  and  more  than  this,  it  is  preserved  to  us  almost 
in  the  same  form  in  St.  Paul's  First  Epistle  to  the  Co- 
rinthians, and  in  that  case  is  one  of  the  few  writings  of 
the  New  Testament  of  which  the  authority  has  never 
been  questioned  at  all,  and  which  belongs  to  a  date 
long  anterior  to  any  of  the  Gospels,  and  which  is  there- 
fore at  once  the  earliest  and  the  most  authentic  of  any 
part  of  the  Gospel  History.  What  St.  Paul  tells  us 
about  the  Last  Supper  is  a  fragment  of  the  Gospel  His- 
tory which  all  critics  and  scholars  will  at  once  admit. 
"  The  Supper  was  universally  instituted  or  founded  by 
Jesus."  1  There  is  nothing  startling,  nothing  difficult 
to  accept  in  the  account  —  no  miraculous  portents,  no 
doctrine  difficult  of  apprehension  —  but  it  contains  many 

1  Strauss's  Life,  ofj&sus. 


34  THE  EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  II. 

of  the  best  characteristics  of  Our  Lord's  discourses  —  His 
deep  affection  to  His  disciples — His  parabolical  mode 
of  expression  —  His  desire  to  be  remembered  after  He 
was  gone  —  His  mixture  of  joyous  festivity  with  serious 
earnestness.  It  contains  also  by  implication  the  story 
of  His  arrival  in  Jerusalem,  of  His  betrayal,  and  of  His 
death.  We  have  enough  in  this  to  build  upon.  No 
one  doubts  it.  Every  one  may  construct  from  it  a 
Christianity  sufficient  for  his  belief  and  for  his  con- 
duct. 

By  dwelling  on  the  original  form  we  pass  out  of  the 
midst  of  modern  controversy  to  a  better,  simpler,  higher 
atmosphere.  It  is  said  that  a  great  genius  in  France,^ 
when  on  the  point  of  receiving  a  first  communion  in  the 
years  which  followed  the  first  Revolution,  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  distracting  and  perplexing  thoughts 
suggested  by  all  the  doubts  which  raged  on  the  subject, 
but  was  restored  to  calm  b}^  fixing  the  mind  on  the  one 
original  scene  from  which  the  Christian  Eucharist  has 
sprung.  Let  us  .do  the  same.  Let  us  go  back  to  that 
one  occasion,  out  of  which,  all  are  agreed,  both  its  unity 
and  its  differences  arose. 

It  was  not,  as  with  us,  in  the  early  morning  or  at 
noonday,  but  in  the  evening,  shortly  after  sunset — not 
on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  nor  the  seventh, 
but  on  the  fifth,  or  Thursday,  that  the  Master 
and  His  disciples  met  together.  The  remembrance  of  the 
day  of  the  week  has  now  entirely  perished  except  in  Pas- 
sion Week.  It  was  revived  in  the  time  of  Calvin,  who 
proposed  in  recollection  of  it  to  have  the  chief  Christian 
festival  and  day  of  rest  transferred  on  this  account  from 
Sunday  to  Thursday.  But  this  was  never  carried  out, 
and  the  day  now  remains  unremembered.  The  remem- 
brance still  lingers  in  the  name  when  we  call  it  a  supper 

'^  Memoirs  of  George  Sand, 


Chap.  II.]  ITS   ORIGINAL   CHARACTER.  35 

—  the  Lord's  Supper — and  still  more  in  Germany,  the 
Holy  Evening  Meal.  For  such  it  was.  It  was  the  even- 
ing feast,  of  which  every  Jewish  household  partook  on 
the  night,  as  it  might  be,  before  or  after  the  Passover. 
They  were  collected  together,  the  Master  and  His  twelve 
disciples,  in  one  of  the  large  upper  rooms  above  the  open 
court  of  the  in^i  or  caravanserai  to  which  they  had  been 
guided.  The  couches  or  mats  were  spread  round  the 
room,  as  in  all  Eastern  houses  ;  and  on  those  the  guests 
lay  reclined,  three  on  each  couch,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom derived  from  the  universal  usage  of  the  Greek  or 
Roman  world.  The  ancient  Jewish  usage  of  eating  the 
Passover  standing  had  given  way,  and  a  symbolical 
meaning  was  given  to  what  was  in  fact  a  more  social 
fashion,  that  they  might  lie  then  like  kings,  with  the 
ease  becoming  free  men.^ 

There  they  lay,  the  Lord  in  the  midst,  next  to  the  be- 
loved disciple,  and  next  to  him  the  eldest,  Peter.     Of  the 
position  of  the  others  we  know  nothing.     There  ^j^g  g,g. 
was  placed  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  guests,   ™'^"'^- 
one,  two,  perhaps  four  cups,  or  rather  bowls.    There  is  at 
Genoa  a  bowl  which  professes  to  be  the  original  chalice 

—  a  mere  fancy,  no  doubt  —  but  probably  representing 
the  original  shape.  This  bowl  was  filled  with  wine 
mixed  up  with  water.  The  wine  of  old  times  was  always 
mixed  with  water.  No  one  ever  thought  of  taking  it 
without,  just  as  now  no  one  would  think  of  taking  treacle 
or  vinegar  without  water.  Beside  the  cup  was  one  or 
more  of  the  large  thin  Passover  cakes  of  unleavened 
bread,  such  as  may  still  at  the  Paschal  season  be  seen  in 
all  Jewish  houses.  It  is  this  of  which  the  outward  form 
has  been  preserved  in  the  thin  round  wafer  which  is  used 
in  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Lutheran  Churches.  It  was 
the  recollection  of  the  unleavened  bread  of  the  Israelites 

1  Maimonides,  Pesach,  10.  1;  Farrar,  Life  of  Christ,  ii.  278. 


36  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  II. 

when  they  left  Egypt.  As  the  wine  was  mixed  with 
water,  so  tlie  bread  was  probably  served  up  with  fish. 
The  two  always  went  together.  We  see  examples  of  it 
in  the  earlier  meals  in  the  Gospel,  and  so  doubtless  it 
was  in  this  last.  Close  beside  this  cake  was  another  rec- 
ollection of  the  Passover  —  a  thick  sop,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  like  the  Egyptian  clay,  and  in  which  the 
fragments  of  the  Paschal  cake  were  dipped.  Round  this 
table,  leaning  on  each  other's  breasts,  reclining  on  those 
couches,  were  the  twelve  disciples  and  their  Master. 
From  mouth  to  mouth  passed  to  and  fro  the  eager  in- 
quiry, and  the  startled  look  when  they  heard  that  one  of 
them  should  betra}'  Him.^  Across  the  table  and  from 
side  to  side  were  shot  the  earnest  questions  from  Peter, 
from  Jude,  from  Thomas,  from  Philip.  In  each  face 
might  have  been  traced  the  character  of  each  —  receiv- 
ing a  different  impression  from  what  he  saw  and  heard  — 
and  in  the  midst  of  all  this  the  majestic  sorrowful  coun- 
tenance of  the  Master  of  the  Feast,  as  He  drew  towards 
him  the  several  cups  and  the  thin  transparent  cake,  and 
pronounced  over  each  the  Jewish  blessing  with  those  few 
words  which  have  become  immortal. 

Let  us  see  then  from  hence  the  details  of  the  first  in- 
stitution of  the  ordinance. 

1.    It   was   the   ancient    Jewish    paschal   meal.       He 

showed  by  thus  using  it  that  He  did  not  mean  to  part 

the  new  from  the  old.     He  intended  that  there 

Its  connec-         i         i  t    i         i  •  •  t    i 

tion  with       should  DC  this  counectiou,  however  slight,  with 

Judaism.  •  x  i  •  rni  i  i 

the  ancient  Israelite  nation.  The  blessing 
which  He  pronounced  on  the  cup  and  the  bread  was 
taken  from  the  blessing  which  the  Jewish  householder 

1  In  this  respect  the  picture  of  the  Last  Supper  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci  gives  a 
true  impression.  The  moment  represented  is  that  in  which,  as  a  bombshell,  the 
declaration  that  one  of  them  should  betray  Him  has  fallen  among  the  Apostles. 
It  is  not  a  picture  of  the  Last  Supper,  so  much  as  the  expression  of  the  various 
emotions  called  forth  by  that  announcement. 


Chap.  II.]  THE   ORIGINAL.  37 

pronounced  on  them.  The  "hymn"  which  they  sang 
was  the  long  chant  from  the  113th  to  the  118th  Psahn, 
celebrating  the  Exodus.  The  moon  which  shone  into 
that  upper  room,  and  which  shines  over  our  Easter  night, 
is  the  successor  of  the  moon  which  lighted  up  the  night 
to  be  ever  remembered  when  Israel  came  out  of  Egypt.^ 
The  most  Christian  of  all  Christian  ordinances  is  thus 
the  most  Jewish.  Whitsunday  has  hardly  any  Jewish 
recollections,  Christmas  and  Good  Friday  none.  But 
Easter  and  the  Lord's  Supper  are  the  Passover  in  an- 
other form,  and  the  link  which  binds  the  old  and  the 
new  together  is  the  same  sense  of  deliverance.  The 
birthday  of  the  Jewish  Religion  was  the  day  of  the  birth 
of  a  free  people.  The  birthday  of  the  Christian  Religion 
was  no  less  the  day  of  the  birth  of  the  freedom  of  the 
human  race,  of  the  human  conscience,  of  the  human  soul. 
"This  year,"  so  says  the  Jewish  service,  "we  are  ser- 
vants here  ;  next  year  we  hope  to  be  freemen  in  the  land 
of  Israel."  This  year  Christendom  may  be  a  slave  to  its 
prejudices  and  its  passsions ;  next  year  it  may  hope  to  be 
free  in  the  land  of  goodness. 

2.  But  out  of  this  supper  He  chose  those  elements 
which  were  most  simple  and  most  enduring.  He  left  al- 
together out  of  notice  the  paschal  lamb  and  the  selection  of 
bitter  herbs.  He  did  not  think  it  necessary  u^'jvw^ai 
to  accept  all  or  reject  all  of  what  He  found,  elements. 
Here  as  elsewhere  He  used  the  best  of  what  came  before 
Him.  He  exercised  His  free  right  of  choice.  When  He 
took  into  His  hands  —  "  His  holy  and  venerable  hands," 
as  the  old  Liturgies  express  it  —  the  paschal  bread  and 
the  paschal  wine,  it  was  the  selection  of  them  from  the 
rest  of  the  Jewish  ceremony,  as  He  selected  His  doctrine 

1  The  hymn  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  Jewess, 
"  When  Israel  forth  from  bondage  came,"  is  also  one  of  the  very  best  hymns 
of  Christians. 


38  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  IL 

from  the  rest  of  the  Jewish  books  and  Jewisli  teaching. 
He  said  nothing  of  the  water  which  was  mixed  with  the 
wine.  That  was  a  mere  passing  custom  which  would 
clianoe  with  time  and  fashion.  He  said  nothing  of  the 
form  or  materials  of  the  bread.  It  was  unleavened,  it 
was  round,  it  was  thin,  it  was  a  cake  rather  than  a  loaf. 
But  He  said  nothing  of  all  these  things,  nothing  of  the 
accompanying  fish.  All  those  questions  which  have 
arisen  as  to  the  proportions  in  which  the  materials  should 
be  mixed  were  far,  verj'  far  behind  Him,  or  far,  very  far 
beyond  Him.  He  took  tlie  bread  and  wine  as  He  found 
them ;  He  fixed  on  the  bread  and  wine  as  representing 
those  two  sustaining  elements  which  are  found  almost 
everywhere  —  bread  that  strengtheneth  man's  heart, 
wine  that  maketli  glad  the  heart  of  man.  These  were  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  which  He  blessed,  for  which  He  gave 
thanks,  to  indicate  the  gratitude  of  man  for  these  simple 
gifts.  As  in  His  teaching  He  had  chosen  the  most 
home] 3'^  images  of  the  shepherd,  the  sower,  the  guest,  the 
traveller,  so  in  His  worship  He  chose  the  most  homely 
elements  of  food.  How  great  is  the  contrast  with  the 
sacred  emblems  of  other  religions  —  the  bulls,  the  goats, 
the  white  horses,  the  jewels,  the  robes.  It  is  the  ser- 
vants, the  inferiors,  the  precursors,  who  need  these  ap- 
pendages to  mark  them.  The  True  Master  is  known  by 
the  simplicity  of  His  appearance,  the  plainness  of  His 
manners  and  His  dress. 

3.  He  chose  also  this  particular  occasion,  His  parting 
supper,  His  farewell  meal,  as  the  foundation  of  His  most 
Parting  sacred  ordinance,  to  show  us  that  here,  as  else- 
'"^^^'  where.  His  religion  was  to  be  part  of  our  com- 

mon life,  not  separated  from  it  —  that  the  human  affec- 
tions of  friend  for  friend,  the  sorrow  of  parting,  the  joy 
of  meeting  iigain,  are  the  very  bonds  by  which  union  and 
sympathy  are  formed.     The   very    name   of   supper  re- 


Chap.  II.]  PARTING   MEAL.  39 

minds  us  tliat  our  holiest  religious  ordinance  sprung 
from  a  festive  meal,  amidst  eating  and  drinking,  amidst 
weeping  and  rejoicing,  amidst  question  and  answer.  It 
proves  that  amongst  the  means  of  Christian  edification, 
not  the  least  are  those  interchanges  of  hospitality  where 
man  talks  freely  with  man,  friend  with  friend,  guest  with 
guest.  Many  such  a  meal  has  ere  this  worked  the  blessed 
work  of  even  a  Christian  sacrament.  How  wise  is  that 
advice  given  by  a  great  humorist  of  our  age,^  not  less 
wise  than  he  was  witty,  that  bishops  should  compose  the 
differences  of  their  clergy  not  by  rebukes,  but  by  meet- 
ing at  the  same  social  table.  How  many  a  quarrel,  how 
many  a  heart-burning,  how  many  a  false  estrangement, 
might  in  like  manner  be  reconciled  and  done  away  with 
by  the  Sacred  Supper,  which  is  the  prototype  and  ideal 
of  all  suppers,  of  every  chief  meal  of  the  day  every- 
where. "  The  supper,"  says  Luther,  "  which  Christ  held 
with  His  disciples  when  He  gave  them  His  farewell,  must 
Lave  been  full  of  friendly  heart-intercourse  ;  for  Christ 
spoke  just  as  tenderly  and  cordially  to  them  as  a  father 
to  his  dear  little  children  when  he  is  obliged  to  part  from 
them.  He  made  the  best  of  their  infirmities  and  had  pa- 
tience with  them,  although  all  the  while  they  were  so 
slow  to  understand,  and  still  lisped  like  babes.  Yet  that 
must  indeed  have  been  choice  friendly  and  delightful  con- 
verse when  Philip  said,  '  Show  us  the  way,'  and  Thomas 
said,  '  We  know  not  the  way,'  and  Peter,  '  I  will  go 
with  thee  to  prison  and  to  death.'  It  was  simple,  quiet 
table-talk ;  every  one  opening  his  heart,  and  showing 
his  thoughts  freely  and  frankly,  and  without  restraint. 
Never  since  the  world  began  was  there  a  more  delightful 
meal  than  that."  It  is  the  likeness,  the  model,  of  all 
serious  conversation,  of  all  family  intercourse,  of  all  social 
reciprocity. 

1  Sydney  Smith. 


40  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  II. 

4.  And  lastly,  He  gave  all  these  things  a  new  mean- 
ing. Here,  as  elsewhere,  what  He  touched  He  vivified, 
Its  future  what  He  used  He  transformed  and  transfigured, 
meaning.  j^.  u^|o;ij|;  have  been  otherwise.  We  might  have 
inherited  only  the  Paschal  feast  —  the  blessing  of  the 
natural  gifts  —  the  social  meal.  But  He  did  more  than 
this.  He  tells  them  that  it  is  Himself  who  is  to  live  over 
again  in  their  thoughts  every  time  they  break  that  bread 
and  drink  that  wine.  What  those  common  earthly  sus- 
tenances are  to  their  bodies,  that  His  Spirit  must  be  to 
their  souls.  This  was  what  the  Apostles  needed  at  that 
moment  of  depression.  They  felt  that  He  was  going 
to  leave  them  ;  He  made  them  feel  that  He  would  still 
be  with  them.  It  was  to  be  a  memorial  of  His  death, 
but  it  was  also  to  be  a  pledge  of  His  life.  Five  ver- 
sions have  been  handed  down  to  us  of  the  words  which 
He  used  —  one  by  St.  Matthew,  one  by  St.  Mark,  one 
by  St.  Luke,  one  by  St.  Paul,  a  fifth  is  found  in  the 
oldest  Liturgical  forms  of  the  early  Church,  differing 
from  the  others.  In  the  Fourth  Gospel,  whilst  the 
words  are  not  given  at  all,  their  substance  extends 
through  the  whole  of  that  parting  discourse  which  is  in 
their  account  a  substitute  for  them.  This  variety  of  nar- 
ratives, whilst  it  shows  the  slight  value  which  those 
early  times  attached  to  the  letter,  shows  also  the  essen- 
tial spirit  of  the  whole  transaction.  "  This  is  my  Body." 
"  This  is  my  Blood."  "  This  is  the  New  Testament."  "  I 
am  the  vine."  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life." 
"  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away,  for  if  I  go  not 
away  the  Comforter  will  not  come  to  you."  What  the 
Apostles  are  imagined  to  have  felt  as  they  heard  those 
words  is  represented  by  their  questions  and  answers.  In 
various  forms  they  longed  to  know  whither  He  was  going, 
—  they  asked  Him  to  show  them  the  Father,  —  they 
asked  that  He  would  manifest  Himself  to  them  and  not 


Chap.  II.]  ITS   FUTURE   MEANING.  41 

to  the  world.  But,  one  and  all,  amidst  all  their  failings, 
they  were  cheered  and  strengthened.  They  felt  that  they 
had  not  parted  with  Him  forever.  The  very  manner  in 
which  He  broke  the  bread  was  enough  to  bring  Him  back 
to  their  recollections.  They  recognized  Him  by  it  at 
Emmaus  and  on  the  shoi-es  of  Gennesareth.  It  was  not 
only  as  they  had  seen  Him  at  the  last  supper,  but  at 
those  earlier  feasts  where  He  had  blessed  and  broken  the 
bread  and  distributed  the  fishes  on  the  hills  of  Galilee- 
The  Last  Supper  was  in  fact  a  continuation  of  those 
meals.i  It  belonged  to  the  future  side  of  His  life  ;  that 
is,  as  He  Himself  had  explained  to  them,  not  the  flesh, 
which  profited  nothing,  but  the  words  which  were  His 
spirit  and  His  life.  Not  only  these  expressions,  but  many 
others  yet  stronger,  repeat  over  and  over  the  truth  which 
that  last  supper  taught.  Christ's  own  inmost  self  would 
remain  always  the  life  and  soul  of  the  Church  and  of  the 
world.  "  Wherever  two  or  three  are  gathered  in  my 
name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  you."  "  Inasmuch  as 
you  did  it  to  the  least  of  these  my  brethren  you  did  it 
to  me."  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always,  even  to  the  end  of 
the  world." 

It  is  also  the  glorification  of  the  power  of  Memory. 
Each  one  may  think  of  those  who  are  gone,  and  whose 
bequests  we  still  desire  to  carry  on.  Each  one,  as  at  the 
Lord's  Table  we  think  of  the  departed,  and  think  also  of 
any  friendless  one  to  be  comforted,  of  any  institution 
needing  help,  of  any  suffering  one  to  be  cheered,  may 
hear  the  voice,  whatsoever  it  may  be,  nearest  and  dear- 
est, or  highest  and  holiest,  in  the  other  world,  saying, 
"  This  do,  in  remembrance  of  Jie."  Remembrance  — 
recalling  of  the  past  —  is  the  moral,  mental,  spiritual 
means  by  which  "the  Last  Supper"  becomes  "the 
Lord's  Supper." 

They  who  believe  in  the  singular  mercy  and  compas- 

1  Renan,  Vie  de  Jesus,  .302,  303. 


42  THE  EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  H. 

sion  shown  in  the  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  or  in  the 
toleration  and  justice  due  to  those  who  are  of  another 
religion,  as  in  the  Parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  they, 
whether  they  be  Christian  in  name  or  not,  whether  they 
have  or  have  not  partaken  of  the  sacrament,  have  thus 
received  Christ,  because  they  have  received  that  which 
was  the  essence  of  Christ,  His  spirit  of  mercy  and  toler- 
ation. 

It  is  the  simple  fact,  which  no  one  of  whatever  creed 
disputes,  that  Christ  has  been,  and  is  still,  the  Soul  of 
Christendom,  and  to  His  life  we  go  back  to  recover  our 
ideal  of  what  Christianity  is  —  that  wherever  we  meet 
any  good  thought  or  deed,  any  suffering  or  want  to  be  re- 
lieved in  any  part  of  the  world,  there  we  touch  a  hand 
that  is  vanished  —  there  we  hear  a  voice  that  is  silent. 
It  is  the  hand,  it  is  the  voice,  of  our  Redeemer.  Other 
teachers,  other  founders  of  religions,  have  cared  that 
their  names  should  be  honored  and  remembered.  He 
cared  not  for  this,  if  only  Himself,  His  spirit.  His  works, 
survived  ; —  if  to  the  poor,  the  suffering,  the  good  every- 
where, were  paid  the  tenderness,  the  honor,  due  to  Him. 
In  their  happiness  He  is  blessed,  in  their  honor  He  is 
honored,  and  in  their  reception  He  is  received.  It  is 
the  last  triumph  of  Divine  unselfishness,  and  it  is  its  last 
and  greatest  reward.  For  thus  He  lives  again  in  His 
members  and  they  live  in  Him.  Even  those  who  have 
most  questioned  and  most  doubted  acknowledge  that 
"  He  is  a  thousand  times  more  living,  a  thousand  times 
more  loved,  than  He  was  in  his  short  passage  through 
life,  that  He  presides  still  day  by  day  over  the  destiny  of 
the  world.  He  started  us  on  a  new  direction,  and  in 
that  direction  we  still  move."  ^ 

It  used  to  be  said  in  the  wars  between  the  Moors  and 
the  Spaniards  that  a  perfect  character  would  be  the  man 

1  Kenan,  Vie  de  Jesus,  p.  421. 


Chap.  H.]  ITS  FUTURE   MEANING.  43 

who  had  the  virtues  of  the  Mussulman  and  the  creed  of 
the  Christian.  But  this  is  exactly  reversing  our  Lord's 
doctrine.  If  the  virtues  of  the  Arabs  were  greater  than 
the  virtues  of  the  Spaniards,  then,  whether  they  ac- 
cepted Christ  in  word  or  not,  it  was  they  who  were  the 
true  believers,  and  it  was  the  Christians  who  were  the 
infidels. 

When  the  Norman  bishops  asked  Anselm  whether 
Alfege,  who  was  killed  by  the  Danes  at  Greenwich, 
could  be  called  a  martyr,  because  he  died  not  on  behalf 
of  the  faith  of  Christ,  but  only  to  prevent  the  levying  of 
an  unjust  tax,  Anselm  answered  :  "  He  was  a  martyr, 
because  he  died  for  justice  ;  justice  is  the  essence  of 
Christ,  even  although  His  name  is  not  mentioned."  The 
Norman  prelates,  so  far  as  their  complaint  went,  were 
unbelievers  in  the  true  nature  of  Christ.  Anselm  was  a 
profound  believer,  just  as  Alfege  was  an  illustrious  mar- 
tyr. When  Bishop  Pearson  in  his  work  on  the  Creed 
vindicates  the  Divinity  of  Christ  without  the  slightest 
mention  of  any  of  those  moral  qualities  by  which  He  has 
bowed  down  the  world  before  Him,  his  grasp  on  the 
doctrine  is  far  feebler  than  that  of  Rousseau  or  Mill,  who 
have  seized  the  very  attributes  which  constitute  the  mar- 
row and  essence  of  His  nature.  When  Commander  Good- 
enough,  on  one  of  the  most  edifying,  the  most  inspiring, 
death-beds  which  can  be  imagined,  spoke  in  the  most  he- 
roic and  saintly  accents  to  his  sailors  and  friends,  there 
were  pious  souls  who  were  deeply  perplexed  because  he 
had  not  mentioned  the  name  of  Jesus.  It  was  they  who 
for  the  moment  were  faithless,  as  it  was  he  who  was  the 
true  believer,  although,  except  in  a  language  they  .did 
not  understand,  he  had  not  spoken  expressly  of  the  Sav- 
iour with  whose  Spirit  he  was  so  deeply  penetrated. 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which  the  life  of  Christ 
is  still  lived  on  the  earth. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  EUCHAKIST  IN  THE  EARLY  CHURCH. 

We  now  pass  from  the  original  institution  to  its  con- 
tinuance in  the  Apostolic  age  and  in  the  two  centuries 
that  followed. 

The  change  had  already  begun.  The  Paschal  ele- 
ments had  dropped  out.  The  lamb,  the  bitter  herbs,  the 
sop,  the  hymn,  had  all  disappeared  ;  the  idea  of  the  last 
parting  of  friends  had  also  vanished.  Three  —  possibly 
four  —  examples  of  it  are  given  in  the  first  century.  In 
the  Acts  the  believers  at  Jerusalem  are  described  as  par- 
taking of  a  daily  meal,  in  their  private  houses,  as  part  of 
their  religious  devotions.^  At  Corinth  the  same  custom 
can  still  be  traced  as  part  of  a  meal.^  At  Troas,  on  the 
Apostle's  last  journey,  it  is  again  indicated  in  connection 
with  the  first  distinct  notice  of  the  religious  observance 
of  the  first  day  of  the  week.^  On  the  voyage  to  Rome 
it  can  be  discerned,  though  more  doubtfully,  in  the 
midst  of  a  common  meal.*  One  characteristic  these  ac- 
counts possess  in  common.  The  earthly  and  the  heav- 
enly, the  social  and  the  religious,  aspect  of  life  were 
not  yet  divided  asunder.  The  meal  and  the  sacrament 
blended  thus  together  were  the  complete  realization  in 
outward  form  of  the  Apostle's  words,  —  perhaps,  in  fact, 
suggested  by  it,  —  "  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatso- 
ever ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God  ;  "  "  Whatsoever 
ye  do,  in  word  or  deed,  do  all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  giving  thanks  to  God  and  the  Father  by  Him." 

1  Acts  ii.  42.  2  1  Cor.  xi.  20.         s  Acts  xx.  7.  *  Acts  xxvii.  35. 


Chap.  III.]  ITS  FESTIVE   CHARACTER.  45 

Perhaps  the  nearest  likeness  now  existing  to  the  nnion 
of  social  intercourse  with  religious  worship  is  to  be  found 
in  the  services  of  the  Church  which  of  all  others  has  been 
least  changed  in  form,  however  much  it  may  have  altered 
in  spirit,  from  ancient  times  —  the  services  of  the  Coptic  or 
Egyptian  Church  of  Alexandria.  There  is,  indeed,  even 
less  of  a  supper  in  the  Coptic  Eucharist  than  there  is  in 
that  of  the  Western  Churches;  but  there  is  more  of  prim- 
itive freedom  and  of  innocent  enjoyment,  the  worshippers 
coming  to  meet  each  other  and  talk  to  each  other,  to  be 
like  a  family  gathering,  than  is  ever  seen  in  any  European 
Church. 

But  even  in  early  times,  even  in  the  Apostolical  age,  the 
difficulties  of  bringing  an  ideal  and  an  actual  life  together 
made  themselves  felt.  As  the  faults  of  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  profaned  and  made  impossible  a  community  of 
property  in  Jerusalem,  so  the  excesses  and  disorders  of 
the  Corinthian  Christians  profaned  and  made  impossible 
a  continuance  of  the  primitive  celebration  of  the  Eucha- 
rist. The  community  of  property  had  vanished,  and  so 
had  the  community  of  the  sacrament.  The  time  was 
coming  when  the  secular  and  the  spiritual  were,  disen- 
tangled one  from  the  other;  the  simplicity  and  the  glad- 
ness of  the  primitive  communion  could  no  longer  be  con- 
tinued, and  therefore  the  form  is  altered  to  ease  the  spirit. 
This  we  shall  endeavor  to  unravel  in  detail. 

I.  The  festive  character  of  the  meal,  which  was  its 
predominant  character,  in  the  first  age,  lasted  for  some 
time  after  the  chaiige  of  its  outward  detail  be-  its  festive 
gan  to  take  eifect.  In  some  respects  it  had  •=^'^^'='«^- 
been  enhanced  and  emphasized  by  its  combination  with 
Gentile  usages.  It  was  like  the  dinner  of  a  club,  or,  as 
the  Greeks  termed  it,  an  eranus —  a  fraternity. 

This  was  one  of  the  peculiar  experiments  of  Greek 
social   life.     The  clubs  —  sometimes  called  erani,  some- 


46  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

times  tliiasi — of  Athens,  of  Rhodes,  and  of  the  ^gean 
isles  were  savings  banks,  insurance  offices,  mutual  help 
societies.  They  had  their  devices  engraven  on  tablets. 
They  had  their  common  festive  meals  —  usually  in  gar- 
dens, round  an  altar  with  sacrifices.  They  were  the 
centres  of  whatever  sentiments  of  piety,  charity,  and  re- 
ligious morality  lingered  in  Greek  society .^  "  A  com- 
mon meal  is  the  most  natural  and  universal  way  of  ex- 
pressing, maintaining,  and  as  it  were  notifying  relations 
of  kinship.  The  spirit  of  antiquity  regarded  the  meals 
of  human  beings  as  having  the  nature  of  sacred  things." 
If,  therefore,  it  sounds  degrading  to  compare  or  connect 
the  Christian  Communion  to  a  club  dinner,  it  is  owing 
to  the  fact  that  the  moderns  connect  less  dignified  asso- 
ciations with  meals  than  the  ancients  did,  and  that  most 
ckibs  have  a  far  less  obvious  dignity  than  the  first  Chris- 

•tian  society When   men  of  different  degrees  or 

nations  received  together  as  from  the  hand  of  God  this 
simple  repast,  they  were  reminded  in  the  most  forcible 
manner  of  their  common  human  wants  and  their  com- 
mon character  of  pensioners  on  the  bounty  of  the  Uni- 
versal Father.2 

In  the  Communion  of  the  first  and  second  centuries 
this  character  of  the  Grecian  club  was  evident  in  its  very 
outset,  for  each  brought,  as  to  the  common  meal,  his  own 
contribution  in  his  basket,  each  helped  himself  from  the 
common  table.^  So  we  see  them  in  the  catacombs,  and 
in  a  bas-relief  in  S.  Ambrogio  at  Milan,  sitting  round  a 
semicircular  table,  men  and  women  together,  which  so  far 
was  an  infringement  on  the  Greek  custom,  where  the 
sexes  were  kept  apart.  More  than  once  a  woman  pre- 
sides.    Two  maidens  appear ;  we  can  hardly  tell  whether 

J  See  the  authorities  quoted  in  Renan,  Les  Apolres,  pp.  352,  353. 

2  Ecce  Homo,  pp.  173,  174. 

8  This  was  changed  before  Tertullian's  time  (Z>e  Corona,  2,  3). 


Chap.  III.]  ITS   FESTIVE   CHARACTER.  47 

they  are  real  or  allegorical,  but  if  allegorical  they  would 
not  have  been  introduced  unless  they  might  have  been 
real.  "  Irene,  da  calida  —  Agape,  misce  mi "  ^  (Peace, 
give  me  the  hot  water — Love,  mix  it  for  me).  It  was 
also,  in  connection  with  the  dead,  a  likeness  of  the  fu- 
neral feast,  such  as  existed  in  pagan  households,  the  fam- 
ily meeting  annually  to  a  repast,  in  the  cellm  memorice, 
with  couches,  coverlets,  and  dresses  provided. ^ 

This  combination  of  a  repast  and  a  religious  rite  is 
already  familiar  by  the  practice  of  the  religious  world 
amongst  the  Jews.  There  were  the  meals  of  the  priests, 
who,  coming  up  from  their  homes  in  the  country  for  the 
Temple  service,  lived  together  like  fellows  of  a  college, 
and  dined  at  a  common  table,  with  the  strictness  of  eti- 
quette which  became  their  position,  always  washing  be- 
fore sitting  down,  blessing  the  bread  and  wine,  and  utter- 
ins  thanks  after  the  close.  These  common  meals  were 
usually  on  festivals  or  Sabbaths.^  The  schools  of  the 
Pharisees  carried  out  the  imitation  of  this  in  their  ordi- 
nary life,  adding  the  same  care  to  preserve  the  likeness 
of  a  meal  in  the  Temple.  In  order  to  avoid  breaking  the 
Sabbath  by  going  or  carrying  provisions  more  than  2,000 
cubits  on  the  Sabbath,  they  invented  a  plan  of  deposit- 
ing their  provisions  at  intervals  of  2,000  cubits,  so  as  to 
create  imaginai'y  houses,  from  each  of  which  they  could 
lawfully  go.  The  Essenes  always  took  their  meals  in 
common  with  the  same  object.* 

Gradually  the  repast  was  parted  from  the  religious  act. 
The  repast  became  more  and  more  secular,  the  religious 
act  more  and  more  sacred.  Already  in  the  Apostolic 
age  the  Apostle's  stern  rebuke  had  commenced  the  sepa- 
ration.    From  century  to  century  the  breach  widened. 

1  Renan,  St.  Paul,  26G. 

2  Smith's  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities,  "Cellas  Memorise,"  p.  387. 

3  Derenbourg,  Palestine,  142-401 ;  Geiger,  Urschrift,  123. 
*  Ibid.  142. 


48  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

The  two  remained  for  a  time  together,  but  distinct,  the 
meal  immediately  preceding  or  succeeding  the  sacrament. 
Then  the  ministers  alone,  instead  of  the  congregation, 
took  the  charge  of  distributing  the  elements.  Then  by 
the  second  century  the  daily  administration  ceased,  and 
was  confined  to  Sundays  and  festivals.  Then  the  meal 
came  to  be  known  by  the  distinct  name  of  agape.  Even 
the  Apostolical  description  of  "  the  Lord's  Supper"  was 
regarded  as  belonging  to  a  meal,  altogether  distinct  from 
the  sacrament.  Finally  the  meal  itself  fell  under  sus- 
picion. Augustine  and  Ambrose  condemned  the  thing 
itself,  as  the  Apostle  had  condemned  its  excesses,  and  in 
the  fifth  century  ^  that  which  had  been  the  original  form 
of  the  Eucharist  was  forbidden  as  profane  by  the  coun- 
cils of  Carthage  and  Laodicea.  It  was  the  parallel  to 
the  gradual  extinction  of  the  bath  in  baptism.^ 

But  of  this  social,  festive  characteristic  of  the  Eucha- 
ristic  meal  many  vestiges  long  continued,  and  some  con- 
tinue still. 

1.  The  name  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  too  closely 
connected  with  the  original  institution  to  be  allowed 
altogether  to  perish.  To  this  we  will  return  for  another 
reason  presently.  But  even  the  other  names  of  the  ordi- 
nance have  refei-ence  to  the  social  gatherings.  The  word 
in  the  Eastern  Church  is  either  o-wafis  (synaxis),  a  com- 
ing together,  or  (as  in  Russian)  obedniac,  a  feast.  Col- 
lecta  is  in  the  Latin  Church  a  translation  of  synaxis,  and 
"collect"  for  the  prayer  used  in  the  Communion  Ser- 
vice is  probably  derived  from  the  whole  service.     It  was 

1  Kenan's  St.  Paul,  262 ;  Bingham's  Antiquities,  xv.  7. 

2  An  exactly  analogous  process  may  be  seen  in  the  usage  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland.  Originally  there  was  no  religious  service  at  a  Scottish  funeral,  only 
a  meal  with  a  grace  at  the  dead  man's  house.  The  meal  has  gradually  dwindled 
away  to  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  few  morsels  of  biscuit ;  the  grace  has  swelled  into 
a  chapter,  a  prayer,  a  blessing,  and  contains  the  germ  of  the  whole  funeral  ser- 
vice of  the  Church  of  England. 


Chap.  III.]  ITS    FESTIVE    CHARACTER.  49 

"oratio  ad  collectam  ;"  then  by  way  of  abbreviation  the 
prayer  itself  came  to  be  called  "  collect^  Communion  is 
a  word  which  conveys  the  same  import.  It  \^  joint  par- 
ticipation. The  word  mass  or  missa  is  often  derived 
from  the  accidental  phrase  at  the  end  of  the  service, 
'■'' Jta  onissa^  esf,"  as  if  the  heathen  sacrifices  had  been 
called  "  Ilicet.'^  But  it  is  at  least  an  ingenious  explana- 
tion that  it  is  a  phrase  taken  from  ther  food  placed  on  the 
table  —  missus^ — or  possibly  from  the  table  itself  — 
mensa  —  and  thence  perpetuating  itself  in  the  old  Eng- 
lish word  "  mess  of  pottage,"  "  soldier's  mess  "^  —  and  in 
the  solemn  words  for  feasts,  as  Christmas  for  the  Feast 
of  the  Nativity,  Michaebnas  for  the  Feast  of  St.  Michael, 
and  the  like.  In  that  case  "the  mass"  would  be  an  ex- 
ample of  a  word  which  has  come  to  convey  an  absolutely 
diffei'ent,  if  .not  an  exactly  opposite,  impression  from  that 
which  it  originally  expressed. 

2.  Besides  the  name  there  are  fragments  of  the  ancient 
usage  preserved  in  various  churches. 

At  Milan  an  old  man  and  an  old  woman  *  bring  up  to 
the  altar  the  pitcher  and  the  loaves,  as  representing  the 
ancient  gifts  of  the  church. 

In  England  the  sacred  elements  are  provided  not  by 
the  minister,  but  by  the  parish. 

In  the  East  always,  and  in  the  West  occasionally,  there 
is  the  distribution  amongst  the  congregation  of  the  bread, 
from  which  the  consecrated  food  is  taken  under  the  name 
of  "eulogia"  —  "blessed  bread."  Eulogia  is  in  fact 
another  name  for  Eucharistia. 

There  lingered  in  the  fifth  century  the  practice  of  in- 
voking the  name  of  Christ  whenever  they  drank,^  and 

1  The  first  certain  use  of  the  word  is  in  Ambrose  (Sermon  34). 

2  Missus  is  a  "coiirse"  (Capitolinus  in  Pertinax,  c.  12 ;  Lampridius  in  Ela- 
gabalus,  c.  30),  as  in  the  French  mets,  entremets. 

8  Crabb  Robinson,  in  Archceoloyla,  xxvi.  242-53. 

*  Bona,  Ker.  Lit.  i.  10.  5  Greg.  Naz.  Hist.  iv.  84;  Sozomen,  Hist.  i.  17. 

12 


50  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

Gregory  of  Tours  describes  the  act  of  eating  and  drink- 
ing together  as  a  kind  of  sacred  pledge  or  benediction. ^ 

The  order  in  the  Church  of  England  and  in  the  Roman 
basilicas  is  that  the  priest  is  not  to  communicate  alone. 

The  practice  in  the  Eastern  and  Roman  Catholic 
Church  of  the  priest  communicating  daily  is  a  relic  of  the 
time  when  it  was  a  daily  event.  It  had  been  gradually 
restricted  to  the  first  day  of  the  week,  but  traces  of  its  ■ 
continuance  on  other  days  are  never  altogether  absent. 
It  is  now  continued  partly  as  a  form,  partly  perhaps  from 
a  sense  of  its  necessity.  But  the  practice  has  its  root  in 
the  original  intention  of  its  being  the  daily  meal.^ 

II.  Another  part  of  the  original  idea,  both  as  dei'ived 
from  the  first  institution  and  also  from  this  festive  so- 
its  evening  ^lal  character,  was  that  it  was  an  evening  meal. 
character.  gi^ch  was  evidently  the  case  at  Corinth  and 
at  Troas. 

This  also  is  still  preserved  in  its  name,  "Supper,"  Zfnr- 
vov,  Coena^  la  Sainte  Cene^  Abend mahl.  The  oelinoy  (sup- 
per) of  the  Greeks  was  especially  contrasted  with  the 
aptcTTov  (dinner,  lunch),  or  midday  meal,  as  being  in  the 
evening,  usually  after  sunset,  corresponding  to  the  Ho- 
meric Bopirvov.  The  coena  of  the  Romans  was  not  quite  so 
late,  but  was  certainly  ill  the  afternoon.  The  word  "  sup- 
per "  in  English  has  never  had  any  other  meaning.  Of 
this  usage,  one  trace  is  the  use  of  candles,  lighted  or  un- 
lighted.  Partly  it  may  have  originated  in  the  necessity  of 
illuminating  the  darkness  of  the  catacombs,  but  probably 
its  chief  origin  is  their  introduction  at  the  evening  Eucha- 
rist. The  practice  of  tlie  nightly  Communion  lingered 
till  the  fifth  century  in  the  neighborhood  of  Alexandria,^ 
and  in  the  Thebaid,  and  in  North   Africa  on  Maundy 

1  Hist.  vi.  5,  viii.  2. 

2  This  is  proved  from  the  passages  cited  in  Freeman's  Princij)ks  of  Divine 
Service,  i.  180-90,  of  which  the  object  is  to  .^hovv  tlie  reverse. 

3  Cj'prian,  Ep.  63 ;  Socrates,  v.  22 ;  Sozonien,  iv.  22 ;  Augustine,  £p.  118. 


Chap.  III.]  THE   POSTURE.  51 

Thursday,  but  as  a  general  rule  it  was  changed  in  the  sec- 
ond century  to  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,^  perhaps  to 
avoid  possible  scandals  —  and  thus  what  had  been  an  ac- 
cidental deviation  from  the  original  intention  has  become 
a  "sacred  regulation,  which  by  some  Christians  is  regarded 
as  absolutely  inviolable.^ 

III.  The  posture  of  the  guests  at  the  sacred  meal  must 
have  been  kneeling,  standing,  sitting,  or  recumbent.  Of 
these  four  positions  no  sinsjle  Church  practices 

,  ,.,  .,  f  ..t'  ,       The  posture. 

that  which  certainly  was  the  original  one.  It 
is  quite  certain  that  at  the  original  institution,  the  couches 
or  divans  were  spread  round  the  upper  chamber,  as  in  all 
Eastern  —  it  may  be  said,  in  all  Roman  houses  ;  and  on 
these  the  guests  lay  reclined,  three  on  each  couch.  This 
posture,  which  probably  continued  throughout  the  Apos- 
tolic age,  is  now  observed  nowhere.^  Even  the  famous 
pictures  which  bring  it  before  us  have  almost  all  shrunk 
from  the  ancient  reality.  They  dare  not  be  so  bold  as 
the  truth.  One  painter  only  —  Poussin  —  has  ventured 
to  delineate  the  event  as  it  actually  occurred.* 

The  next  posture  is  sitting,  and  is  the  nearest  approach 
in  spirit,  though  not  in  form,  to  the  original  practice  of 
reclining.  It  has  since  disappeared  everywhere  with 
two  exceptions.  The  Presbyterian  Churches  receive  the 
Communion  sitting,  by  way  of  return  to  the  old  practice. 
The  Pope  for  many  centuries  also  received  it  sitting, 
probably  by  way   of   direct    continuation    from    ancient 

1  Plin.  Ep.  X.  97;  Const.  Apost.  ii.  39  ;  Tertullian,  De  Fuga  in  Pers.  14  ; 
De  Cor.  3  ;  Minutlus  Felix,  8.  There  were  still  nocturnal  masses  till  the  time 
of  Pius  V.  (Bona,  i.  211). 

2  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  practice  of  "evening  communions"  in  tho 
Church  of  England  is  said  to  have  been  originated  bj'  the  High  Church  party, 
to  whom  it  has  now  become  the  most  offensive  of  all  deviations  from  the  ordi- 
nary usage. 

8  The  words  aveKeiTo  —  avaKetixeviav  —  aveCKeae  (Matt.  xxvi.  4;  Mark  xiv.  13; 
Luke  xxii.  14;  .John  xiii.  23,  28)  are  decisive. 

^  There  is  also  a  quite  modern  representation  of  the  same  kind  in  the  altar- 
piec3  of  a  church  in  Darlington. 


52  THE    EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

times.  It  is  disputed  whether  he  does  so  now.  It  would 
seem  that  about  the  fifteenth  centuiy  he  exchanged  the 
posture  for  one  half  sitting,  half  standing,  just  as  in  the 
procession  of  Corpus  Christi  he  adopts  a  posture  in  which 
he  seems  to  kneel  but  really  sits.^ 

The  next  posture  is  that  which  indicates  the  transition 
from  the  social  meal  to  the  religious  ordinance.  It  is  the 
attitude  of  standing,  which  throughout  the  East,  as  in 
the  Apostolic  and  Jewish  Church,  is  the  usual  posture  of 
prayer.  This  is  preserved  in  the  Western  Church  only 
in  the  attitude  of  the  celebrating  priest,  who  in  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  Church  remains  standing.  Whether  in 
the  English  Church  the  rubric  enjoins  the  clergyman  to 
stand  or  to  kneel  while  receiving  has  been  much  dis- 
puted. If  the  former,  it  is  then  in  conformity  with  the 
ancient  usage  of  the  Roman  Church;  if  the  latter,  it  is 
in  conformity  with  modern  usage. 

The  fourth  is  the  posture  of  kneeling.  This,  which 
prevails  amongst  all  members  of  the  English  Church,  and 
amongst  lay  members  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  is 
the  most  modern  of  all.  It  expresses  reverence,  in  the 
most  suitable  way  for  Western  Christians ;  but  all  trace 
of  the  original,  festive,  Oi'iental  character  of  the  ordi- 
nance is  altogether  superseded  by  it. 

We  now  come  to  the  sacred  elements. 

IV.  The  lamb,  the  bitter  herbs  of  the  first  Paschal 
feast,  if  they  were  retained  at  all  in  the  Apostolic  tiines, 
soon  disappeared.  It  was  not  on  these,  but  on  the 
homely,  universal  elements  of  the  bread  and  wine  that 
the  First  Founder  of  the  ordinance  laid  the  whole  stress. 

The  original  bread  of  the  original  institution  was  not  a 

loaf,  but  the  Paschal  cake  —  a  large  round  thin  biscuit, 

such  as  may  be    seen  every  Easter  in    Jewish 

houses.     "  He  broke  the  bread,"  "  the  breaking 

1  The  question  is  discussed  at  length  in  (he  chapter  on  the  Pope. 


Chap.  III.]  THE   ELEMENTS.  63 

of  bread,"  is  far  more  suitable  to  tliis  than  to  a  loaf.  Of 
til  is  form  the  trace  remains,  reduced  to  the  smallest  par- 
ticle, in  the  wafer  ^  as  used  in  the  Roman  and  Lutheran 
Churches.  It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  they 
took  it  direct  from  the  Paschal  cake  —  first,  because  the 
Greek  Churches,  which  are  more  tenacious  of  ancient 
usages  than  the  Latin,  have  not  done  so;  secondly,  be- 
cause the  round  form  is  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  the 
fact  that  the  bread  as  used  by  the  ancient  world  (as  seen 
in  the  bakers'  shops  at  Pompeii  and  also  in  the  paintings 
of  the  catacombs)  was  in  the  shape  of  round  flat  cakes. 
It  is  also  alleged  (though  this  is  doubtful)  that  the  com- 
mon bread  of  the  poor  in  early  times  was  in  the  West 
unleavened,  whereas  in  tlie  East  it  was  leavened.  There 
are  some  parts  of  the  Greek  Church  where  the  use  of 
leavened  bread  is  justified  by  the  assertion  that  they  have 
an  actual  piece  of  the  very  loaf  used  at  the  Last  Supper, 
and  that  it  is  leavened.^ 

This  peculiarity  of  form  is  an  illustration  of  two  gen- 
eral principles.  First,  it  is  evident  that  the  Roman  and 
Lutheran  Churches,  by  adhering  to  the  literal  form  of 
the  old  institution,  have  lost  its  meaning  ;  and  the  Re- 
formed Churches,  whilst  certainly  departing  from  the  orig- 
inal form,  have  preserved  the  meaning.  The  bread  of 
common  life,  which  was  in  the  three  first  centuries  repre- 

1  A  long  argument  was  maintained  in  an  English  newspaper  to  repudiate 
the  validity  of  the  Roman  Sacrament,  on  the  ground  that  its  wafers  were  made 
not  of  bread  but  of  paste.  A  curious  example  of  an  adventitious  sacredness 
attaching  itself  to  a  particular  form  of  Sacramental  bread  is  to  be  found  in  the 
use  of  "shortbread,"  instead  of  the  ordinary  leavened  or  unleavened  bread, 
amongst  the  "hill  men"  of  Scotland.  "I  myself,"  writes  a  well-informed 
minister  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  "thirty  years  ago  assisted  at  an  open  air 
Communion  in  tiie  parish  of  Dairy,  in  Gallowa}',  where  this  had  been  the  cus- 
tom from  time  immemorial.  The  minister's  wife  sent  so  many  pounds  of  fresh 
butter  to  a  distant  balser,  and  received  bacl\,  preparatory  to  the  Communion,  so 
many  cakes  of  'shortbread,'  i.  e.  brittle  bread,  which  was  kept  nearly  as  care- 
full}'  as  a  Roman  Catholic  would  keep  his  wafer." 

2  Pashley's  Crete,  i.  316. 


64  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  IH. 

sented  by  the  thin  unleavened  cake  is  now  represented 
by  the  ordinary  loaf.  The  mystical  fancy  of  the  Middle 
Ages  which  attached  to  the  wafer  is  in  fact  founded 
on  that  which  was  once  the  most  ordinary  form  of 
food.  Secondly,  the  fierce  controversy  which  broke 
out  afterwards  between  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches 
on  the  question  whether  the  bread  should  be  leavened  or 
unleavened  arose,  in  the  first  instance,  out  of  the  most 
trivial  divergence  of  an  usage  of  ordinary  life. 

The  wine  in  the  original  institution  was  (as  we  know 

from    the   Paschal  Supper)   arranged   in  two,  three,  or 

sometimes  four  cups,  or  rather  bowls.     In  this 

The  wine.  ,  p-ni-  •        -i         •   t 

bowl  was  the  wme  oi  ralestine  mixed  with 
water.  The  water  is  not  expressly  mentioned  either  in 
the  account  of  the  original  institution  or  in  the  earliest 
accounts  of  the  primitive  Communion ;  but  it  was  be- 
yond question  there,  in  accordance  with  the  universal 
practice  of  the  ancient  world.  To  drink  wine  ^  without 
water  was  like  drinking  pure  brandy  now.  The  name 
for  a  drinking  goblet  was  Kpanjp,  which  means  a  "  mix- 
ing "  vessel.  To  this  day  wine  in  modern  Greek  is 
called  Kpaai,  "the  mixed." 

The  deviations  from  the  original  use  of  the  cup  are  in- 
structive from  their  variety.  Not  a  single  Church  now 
communicates  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  originally 
given.  The  Reformed  Churches,  on  the  same  principle 
as  that  on  which  they  have  adopted  a  common  loaf  in- 
stead of  a  thin  wafer,  have  dropped  the  water.  The 
Greek  Churches  have  mixed  the  bread  with  the  wine. 
The  Roman  Churches  have  dropped  the  use  of  the  cup 
altogether  except  for  the  officiating  priest.  It  was  an  in- 
novation which  spread  slowly,  and  which  but  for  the  Ref- 

1  Tlius  in  the  Syro-Jacobitic  liturgy  (see  Neale's  Translations  of  Primi- 
tive Liturgies,  pp.  202,  223)  it  is  said  He  "  temperateU'  and  moderately" 
miiiKled  the  wine  and  water.  It  is  also  mentioned  in  Justin  Martyr,  Apol. 
c.  07. 


Chap.  III.]  THE   FISH.  55 

ormatlon  would  have  become  universal,  except  in  a  few 
cuinous  instances  in  which  the  original  practice  continued. 
The  King  of  France  always  took  the  cup.  The  Bohemi- 
ans ^  extorted  the  use  of  it  from  the  Pope.  The  laity  in 
England  were  long  conciliated  by  having  unconsecrated 
wine.  The  Abbot  of  Westminster  always  administered 
it  to  the  King  and  Queen  at  the  coronation.  And  in  the 
three  northern  churches  ^  of  Jarrow,  Monkwearmouth, 
and  Norham  it  was  given  till  1515.'^ 

There  remains  one  other  usage,  more  doubtful  perhaps 
but  exceedingly  interesting,  and  from  which  the  varia- 
tion has  been  of  the  same  kind  as  those  we  have 
noticed.  In  ancient  times  a  meal,  even  of  bread, 
was  not  thought  complete  without  fish  (6ij/ov)  whenever  it 
could  be  had.  "  Bread  and  fish  "  went  together  like 
"bread  and  cheese  "  or  "'bread  and  butter  "  in  England, 
or  (as  we  have  just  obseiwed)  like  "wine  and  water"  in 
the  old  classical  world.  Meat  was  the  exception  and 
fish*  the  rule.  And  accordingly,  if  not  in  the  original 
institution  of  the  Last  Supper,  yet  in  those  indications  of 
the  first  continuation  of  it  which  are  contained  in  the 
last  chapters  of  St.  Luke  and  St.  John,  fish  is  always 
mentioned  with  bread  as  part  of  the  sacred  meal.  In  the 
local  traditions  of  the  Roman  peasants  —  many  of  them 
no  doubt  mere  plays  of  fancy,  yet  some  probably  imbued 
with  the  continuous  traditions  of  antiquity  —  it  is  said 
that  when  Jesus  Christ  came  to  the  house  of  an  old 
woman  and  asked  for  food,  she  answered,  "  There  is  a 
little  fish  "  (it  was  a  little  fish,  "  that  is  not  so  long  as 
my  hand,"  said  the  peasant)  "  and  some  crusts  of  bread 

1  Two  chalices  remain  in  one  of  the  Bohemian  churches  (and  that  Protestant), 
which  were  carried  at  the  head  of  the  Hussite  armies. 

2  Blunt's  Reformation,  p.  34. 

3  The  Weslc3-an3  in  the  Sandwich  Islands  celebrated  the  Eucharist  with 
treacle  instead  of  wine,  —  there  beings  no  vines,  —  and  were  opposed  by  the 
Quakers  on  principle.     1  owe  this  to  the  late  Count  Strelecski. 

4  Bekker's  Charicks,  323,  3'2i. 


66  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

which  they  gave  me  at  the  eating-house  for  charity,  and 
this  flask  of  wine  and  water  which  they  gave  me  there."  ^ 
Furtlier,  the  early  representations  of  the  Sacred  Supper 
(whether  we  call  it  Eucharist  or  Agape)  which  appear 
in  the  catacombs,  almost  always  include  ^s/ies  —  some- 
times placed  on  the  cakes  of  bread,  sometimes  on  a  platter 
by  itself.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  resist  the  inference 
which  has  been  drawn,  that  this  too  was  part  of  the  prim- 
itive celebration.  It  was  a  part  which  would  be  doubly 
cherished,  a  recollection  not  only  of  the  upper  chamber 
of  Jerusalem,  but  of  the  still  more  sacred  shores  of  the 
Lake  of  Gennesareth.^  There  was  in  the  Middle  Ages  a 
fish  called  "the  Paschal  pickerel,"  from  the  tradition 
that  the  Lord  had  in  the  Last  Supper  substituted  a  fish 
for  the  Paschal  lamb.^  In  the  Cathedral  of  Salerno  there 
is  a  picture  of  the  Last  Supper  (in  the  sacristy)  with  a 
fish.  It  disappeared  from  the  Christian  monuments  alto- 
gether at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  and  is  common 
only  in  the  second  and  third.  It  has  now  entirely  van- 
ished, and  the  recollection  of  it  has  been  obliterated  by 
the  symbolism  to  which  it  has  given  birth.  Just  as  the 
ordinary  form  of  the  cake  furnished  occasion  for  the  fan- 
ciful interpretation  that  it  was  the  likeness  of  the  thirty 
pieces  for  which  the  Betrayal  was  made,  and  the  water 
and  wine  (the  ordinary  mode  of  drinking  wine)  was 
made  to  symbolize  the  water  and  the  blood,  or  the  double 
nature,  or  the  tAvo  Testaments,  so  the  fish  was  in  the 
fourth  century  interpreted  by  a  curious  acrostic  to  be  our 
Lord  himself  —  'Irjauvi  XpLarbi  ®eov  Ytos  2a)7>7p.*  This  in- 
terpretation, which  first  appears  ^  in  Optatus  of  Milevis 
(a.  D.  384),  was  not  known   in   earlier  times,   and  was 

1  Husk's  Folk  Lore  of  Borne,  174. 

2  IJenan,  Vie  de  Jesus,  303;   Spic.  Solesmiense,  iii.  5G8. 
8  Giinton's  History  of  reterborough,  p.  337. 

4  Norlhcote,  210-15. 

6  Wharton  Marriott's  Essay  on  the  Fish  of  Autun. 


Chap.  III.]  THE  TABLE.  57 

very  imperfectly  recognized  even  by  Augustine.  The 
fish  itself,  if  as  we  may  suppose  it  formed  part  of  the 
original  and  primitive  ordinance,  is  one  of  those  partic- 
ulars of  sacred  antiquity  which  are  gone  beyond  recall. 
Not  a  trace  of  it  exists  in  the  New  Testament.  It  is  gone 
from  all  celebrations  of  the  Eucharist,  as  the  water  from 
the  wine  in  Protestant  celebrations,  as  the  wine  from  the 
bread  in  Roman  administrations. 

V.  One  more  trace-  of  the  social  festive  character  of 
the  original  ordinance  was  the  table.  To  the  question 
whether  it  was    ever    called  an  altar  in  those 

. ,  1  1  T-.  1  •  The  table. 

ages  we  will  return  presently.  But  there  is  no 
doubt  that  it  was  always  of  wood,  and  that  the  mensa 
or  Tpa-€^a  was  its  ordinary  name.  In  the  representa- 
tions in  the  catacombs,  it  is  as  if  a  circular  table.^  In 
the  earliest  forms  of  churches,  whether  as  in  the  small 
chapels  in  the  catacombs,  or  as  in  the  great  basilicas  of 
Rome,  or  in  the  Eastern  churches,  it  stood  and  stands  in 
front  of  the  apse.  This  in  Western  churches  was  super- 
seded in  later  times  by  stone  structures  fastened  to  the 
east  end  of  the  church.  But  in  the  Protestant  churches, 
both  Reformed  and  Lutheran,  the  wooden  structure  and 
the  detached  position  were  retained,  and  in  the  English 
and  Scottish  churches,  both  Episcopal  and  Presbyterian, 
wooden  tables  were  brought  at  the  time  of  the  Holy 
Communion  into  the  middle  of  the  church.  There  was 
only  this  difference  in  their  position  from  that  in  the 
primitive  Church,  that  in  the  English  Church  they  were 
placed  lengthwise,  the  officiating  minister  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  side  facing  the  people.  On  this  ar- 
rangement all  the  rubrics  are  founded,  and,  curiously 
enough,  were  not  altered,  when,  after  Laud's  time,  the 
position  of  the  table  was  again  brought  back  to  what  it 
had  been  before  the  Reformation.     Deerhurst  church  in 

1  See  the  various  authorities  quoted  in  Kenan's  St.  Paid,  266. 


58  THE    EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

Gloucestershire  alone  retains  for  it  the  position  which 
was  given  in  the  time  of  Edward  VI.  Thus  while  the 
position  of  the  Holy  Table  in  England  is  now  conform- 
able to  the  medieval  practice  of  the  Latin  Church,  the 
rubric  which  speaks  of  "  the  north  side,"  which  is  no 
longer  capable  of  being  observed,  remains  the  sole  relic 
in  our  service  of  the  conformity  with  which  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  brought  with  the  primitive  usage. 

VI.  We  have  now  reached  the  last  trace  of  the  social, 
and,  as  it  may  be  called,  secular  character  of  the  prim- 
The  posture  itive  Eucliarist.  We  pass  to  the  forms  by 
of Vj'^'miu"  wliich,  no  doubt  from  the  first,  but  increasing  as 
ister.  time  rolled  on,  the  religious  or  sacred  character 

with  which  it  had  been  invested  was  brought  out  into 
words,  and  in  doing  so  we  are  at  once  brought  into  the 
presence  of  all  that  we  know  of  the  early  Christian  wor- 
ship. The  Liturgy,  properly  speaking,  was  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  Holy  Communion.  The  worship  of  the  early 
Christians  gathered  round  this  as  the  nucleus.  We  must 
picture  to  ourselves  the  scene  according  to  the  arrange- 
ment which  has  been  clearly  described.  The  Bishop,  or 
Presiding  Minister,  as  he  is  called  by  Justin  Martyr,  is 
on  his  lofty  seat  behind  the  table,  overlooking  it,  facing 
the  congregation  who  stood  on  the  other  side  of  it  in 
front  of  him.  The  other  ministers,  if  there  were  any 
—  probably  Deacons  —  sat  or  stood  in  a  semicircle  im- 
mediately beneath  and  around  him.  This  position  is  now 
almost  entirely  lost.  The  Pope  to  a  certain  degree  keeps 
it  up,  as  he  always,  in  celebrating  mass,  stands  behind 
the  altar,  facing  the  people.  The  arrangements  of  an- 
cient churches,  like  that  of  Torcello  at  Venice,  though 
long  disused,  are  proofs  of  the  ancient  custom.  The 
nearest  likeness  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Scottish  Presbyte- 
rian Church,  where  the  minister,  from  his  lofty  pulpit 
beliind  the  table,   addresses  the  congregation,  with  his 


Chap.  III.]         POSTURE   AND   POSITION   OF   THE   MINISTER.       69 

elders  beneath  Mm  on  the  pulpit  stairs,  or  round  its  base. 
The  dress  of  the  bishop  and  clergy  who  are  to  officiate, 
except  by  mere  accident,  in  no  way  distinguishes  them 
from  the  congregation  in  front  of  them.^  The  prayers 
are  uttered  throughout  standing,  and  with  outstretched 
hands.  The  posture  of  devotion  was  standing,  as  is  the 
universal  practice  in  the  East.  The  outstretched  hands 
are  open  in  Mussulman  devotions,  as  also  in  the  cata- 
combs. They  express  the  hope  of  receiving  into  them 
the  blessings  from  above.  Of  the  outstretched  hands  a 
reminiscence  was  very  long  present  in  the  benediction  — 
7nanibus  extensis  ^  —  of  the  priest.  As  in  other  cases,  so 
here,  when  the  original  meaning  was  lost,  this  simple 
posture  was  mystically  explained  as  the  extension  of  the 
hands  of  Christ  on  the  cross.^ 

Of  this  standing  posture  of  the  congregation  which 
still  pi-evails  throughout  the  East,  all  traces  have  disap- 
peared in  the  Western  Church,  except  in  the  attitude  of 
the  officiating  minister  at  the  Eucharist,  and  in  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Presbyterian  Churches  always.  Its  extinc- 
tion is  the  more  remarkable,  because  it  vras  enjoined  by 
the  only  canon  of  the  Council  of  Nicjea,  which  related 
to  public  worship,  and  which  ordered  that  on  every  Sun- 
day (whatever  license  might  be  permitted  on  other  days) 
and  on  every  day  between  Easter  and  Pentecost,  kneel- 
ing should  be  forbidden  and  standing  enjoined.  In  the 
controversy  between  the  Church  and  the  Puritans  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  there  was  a  vehement  contention 
whether  kneeling  at  the  Sacrament  should  be  permitted. 
It  was  the  point  on  which  the  Church  most  passionately 
insisted,  and  which  the   Puritans   most  passionately  re- 

1  See  the  case,  as  discussed  1  y  Cardinal  Bona,  and  the  futilitj'  of  the  argu- 
ments by  which  he  endeavors  to  refute  the  mass  of  authority  on  the  other  side. 

2  Maskell,  p.  79.  The  last  trace  of  it  in  England  is  in  the  Life  of  St.  Dun- 
stan. 

3  Ibid. 


60  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

sisted.  The  Church  party  in  this  were  resisting  the 
usage  of  ancient  Catholic  Cln-istendom,  and  disobeying 
the  Canon  of  the  First  Qj^cumenical  Council,  to  which 
they  professed  the  most  complete  adhesion.  The  Puri- 
tans, who  rejected  the  authority  of  either,  were  in  the 
most  entire  conformity  with  both. 

VII.  Another  element  of  the  worship  was  the  reading 

of  the  Scriptures.     This  has  continued  in  most  Christian 

Churches,  but  in  none  can  it  be  said  to  occupy 

Reading  of         ,  -  .  .  ,         . 

the  Script-  the  Same  solemn  prominence  as  in  early  times, 
when  it  was  a  continuation  of  the  tradition  of 
reading  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  in  the  Jewish  syna- 
gogues. A  trace  of  this  is  visible  in  the  ambones  —  the 
magnificent  reading-desks  of  the  early  Roman  churches, 
from  which  the  Gospel  and  Epistle  were  read.  Long 
were  these  preserved  in  Italian  churches  after  the  use  of 
them  had  been  discontinued.  Nothing  can  be  more 
splendid  than  the  ambones  in  the  church  at  Ravello  near 
Amalfi,  which  though  long  deserted  remain  a  witness  to 
the  predominant  importance  attributed  in  ancient  times 
to  the  reading  of  the  Bible  in  the  public  service.  In  the 
French  Church  the  very  name  of  the  lofty  screens  which 
parted  the  nave  from  the  choir  bears  testimony  to  the 
same  principle.  They  were  called  Juhe,  from  the  open- 
ing words  of  the  introduction  of  tlie  Gospel,  Jube,  Do- 
mine.  Those  that  still  exist,  like  that  at  Troyes,  and 
also  in  the  King's  College  Chapel  at  Aberdeen, ^  by  their 
stately  height  and  broad  jDlatforms,  show  how  imposing 
must  have  been  this  part  of  the  service,  now  so  humili- 
ated and  neglected.  Few  such  now  remain.  The  pas- 
sion for  revolutionary  equality  on  one  side  and  ecclesias- 
tical uniformity  on  the  other  have  done  their  worst. 
They  have  now  either  disappeared  altogether,  or  are 
never  used  for  their  original  purpose. 

1  At  Rlieims,  the  Kings  of  France  were  crowned  upon  the  screen,  so  to  be 
visible  at  once  to  those  in  the  clioir  and  those  in  the  nave. 


Chap.  Ill]         THE   READING   OF    THE   SCRIPTURES.  61 

In  England  the  huge  reading-desk  or  "  pew  "  long  sup- 
plied the  place  of  the  old  ambo,  but  that  is  now  being 
gradually  swept  away,  and  there  only  remains  the  lectern, 
in  modern  times  reduced  to  so  small  a  dimension  as  to  be 
almost  invisible. 

The  Prophets  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  Epistles  of 
the  New  —  chiefly  St.  Paul — were  read  from  the  lower 
step  of  the  staircase  leading  up  to  the  ambo.  In  some 
churches  the  Gospel  of  Thomas  and  the  first  Epistle  of 
Clement  were  added.  The  Gospel  was  from  one  of  the 
four  Gospels,  and  was  read  from  the  ujjper  step,  or  some- 
times from  a  separate  ambo.  Selections  from  the  Script- 
ures were  not  fixed ;  each  reader  chose  them  at  his  dis- 
cretion. There  is  an  instance  in  France  as  late  as  the 
fifth  century  of  their  being  chosen  by  opening  the  book 
at  hazard.  The  reader  was  usually  the  deacon  or  sub- 
deacon  ;  not,  as  with  us,  the  chief  clergyman  present. 
Of  this  a  trace  remains  in  the  English  Church,  especially 
in  the  Channel  Islands,  where  laymen  may  read  the  les- 
sons. The  reader  of  the  Gospel  if  possible  faced,  not  as 
with  us  to  the  west,  but  to  the  south,  because  the  men 
sate  ^  on  the  south,  and  it  was  a  fine  idea  that  in  a  manly 
religion  like  Christianity  the  Gospel  belonged  especially 
to  them. 

VIII.  Then  came  the  address,  sometimes  preached  from 
one  of  the  ambones,  but  more  usually  from  the  Bishop's 
seat  behind  the  table.    It  was  called  a  "  Homily  " 

o  v  1  •  •  The  Homily. 

or  "  Sermon  —  that  is,  a  conversation  ;  not  a 
speech  or  set  discourse,  but  a  talk,  a  homely  colloquial 
instruction.  The  idea  is  still  kejDt  up  in  the  French  word 
conference.  It  is  not  possible  that  the  sermon  or  homily 
should  ever  return  to  its  original  meaning.  But  it  is 
well  for  us  to  remember  what  that  meaning  was.  It  was 
the  talking,  the  conversation,  of  one  Christian  man  with 
1  Oi'do  Rom.  ii.  8  (see  Dictionary  of  Antiquities). 


62  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  IH. 

another :  the  practical  address,  as  Justin  Martyr  says, 
exhorting  the  people  to  the  imitation  of  the  good  things 
that  they  have  just  had  read  to  them  from  the  Bible  ; 
the  mutual  instruction  which  is  implied  in  animated  dis- 
cussion. It  is,  in  short,  the  very  reverse  of  what  is 
usually  meant  by  a  "  homily." 

Thus  far  any  one  might  attend  at  the  worship.  In  the 
Christian  Church  of  the  early  times,  before  infant  bap- 
tism had  become  common,  a  large  part  of  the  congrega- 
tion consisted  of  unbaptized  persons,  and  when  the  time 
for  the  more  sacred  j^^ii't  of  the  service  came,  they  were 
warned  off.  There  is  a  part  of  the  service  of  the  Eastern 
Church  when  the  deacon  comes  forward  and  says,  "  The 
doors,  the  doors  !  "  meaning  that  all  who  are  not  Chris- 
tians are  to  go  away  and  the  doors  are  to  be  shut.  But 
they  do  not  go  away,  and  the  doors  —  at  least,  the  doors 
of  the  church  —  are  not  shut. 

IX.  The  solemn  service  opening  with  a  practice  which 

belongs  to  the  childlike    joyous  innocence  of   the  early 

ages,  and  which  as  sucli  was  upheld  as  abso- 

Thekiss.  &      '  _  _     r 

lutely  essential  to  the  Christian  worship,  but 
which  now  has,  with  one  exception,  disappeared  from  the 
West,  and  with  two  exceptions  from  the  East.  It  was 
the  kiss  of  peace.  Justin  mentions  it  as  the  universal 
mode  of  opening  the  service.  It  came  down  direct  from 
the  Apostolic  time.^  Sometimes  the  men  kiss  the  men, 
the  women  the  women  ;  sometimes  it  was  without  distinc- 
tion. But  it  was  thought  so  essential  that  to  abstain 
from  it  was  a  mark  of  mourning  or  excessive  austerity. 
In  the  West  this  primitive  practice  now  exists  only  in 
the  small  Scottish  sect  of  the  Glassites  or  Sandemanians. 
In  the  Latin  Church,  it  was  continued  till  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  was  then  transferred  to  the  close 
of  the  service.     In  its  place  was  then  substituted  a  piece 

1  1  Thess.  V.  26;  1  Cor.  xvi.  20;  2  Cor.  xiii.  12;  Kom.  xvi.  16;  1  Pet.  v.  14. 


Chap.  III.]  THE   KISS   OF   PEACE.  63 

of  the  altar  furniture  called  a  Pax,  and  this  was  given  to 
the  deacon  with  the  words,  '•'■Pax  tibi  ^  et  eeelesice.'*  This 
is  a  singular  instance  of  the  introduction  of  a  purely 
mechanical  and  mediaeval  contrivance  instead  of  a  living 
social  observance.^  The  only  trace  of  it  remaining  in  the 
English  service  is  the  final  benediction,  which  begins 
with  the  words  "  The  peace  of  God."  In  the  Eastei'n 
Church  it  still  remains  to  some  extent.  In  the  Russian 
Church,  perhaps  in  other  Eastern  Churches,  the  clergy 
kiss  each  other  during  the  recital  of  the  Nicene  Creed,  to 
show  that  charity  and  orthodoxy  should  always  go  to- 
gether, not,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  parted  asunder.  In 
the  Coptic  Church,  the  most  primitive  and  conservative 
of  all  Christian  Churches,  it  still  continues  in  full  force. 
Travellers  now  living  have  had  their  faces  stroked,  and 
been  kissed,  by  the  Coptic  priest,  in  the  cathedral  at 
Cairo,  whilst  at  the  same  moment  everybody  else  was  kiss- 
ing everybody  throughout  the  church.  Had  any  primi- 
tive Christians  been  told  that  the  time  would  come  when 
this,  the  very  sign  of  Christian  brotherhood  and  sister- 
hood, would  be  absolutely  proscribed  in  the  Christian 
Church,  they  would  have  thought  that  this  must  be  the 
result  of  unprecedented  persecution  or  unprecedented  un- 
belief. It  is  impossible  to  imagine  the  omission  of  any 
act  more  sacred,  more  significant,  more  necessary  (accord- 
ing to  the  view  which  then  prevailed)  to  the  edification 
of  the  service. 

X.  Then  came  the  offering  of  the  bread  and  wine  by 
the  people.     It  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  memorial  of 
the  ancient  practice  of  the  contribution  of  the 
Christian  community  towards  a  common  meal. 
The  prayer  in  which  this  was    offered  was  in  fact  the 

1  See  Eenan's  St.  Paul,  262. 

2  Maskell,  116.  The  importance  of  the  "kiss  "  as  a  token  of  reconciliation 
IS  illustrated  by  the  importance  attached  in  the  contention  between  Henry  II. 
and  Becket,  to  the  question  whether  "the  kiss  "  had  fairly  been  given. 


64  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

centre  of  the  whole  service.  This  is  the  point  at  which 
we  first  come  into  contact  with  the  germ  of  a  fixed 
Liturgy. 1  It  has  been  often  maintained  that  there  are 
still  existing  forms  which  have  come  down  to  us  from  the 
first  century,  and  even  that  the  Liturgies  which  go  under 
the  names  of  St.  James,  St.  Clement,  and  St.  Mark  were 
written  by  them.  There  are  two  fatal  objections  to  this 
hypothesis.  The  first  is  the  positive  statement^  of  St. 
Basil  that  there  was  no  written  authority  for  any  of  the 
Liturgical  forms  of  the  Church  in  his  time.  The  second 
is  the  fact  that  whilst  there  is  a  general  resemblance  in 
the  ancient  Liturgies  to  the  forms  known  to  exist  in  early 
times,  there  are  such  material  variations  from  those  forms 
as  to  render  it  impossible  to  suppose  that  the  exact  rep- 
resentatives of  them  anywhere  exist.  This  will  appear 
as  we  proceed,  and  therefore  we  shall  only  notice  the 
details  of  the  Liturgies  so  far  as  they  contain  the  relics 
of  the  earlier  state  -of  things,  or  illustrate  the  changes 
which  have  brought  us  to  the  present  state  of  Liturgical 
observances. 

The  Prayer  was  spoken  by  the  Bishop  or  Chief  Pres- 
byter, as  best  he  could  —  that  is,  as  it  would  seem,  not 
written,  but  spoken.^  It  is  thus  the  first  sanction  of  ex- 
tempore prayer  in  the  public  service  of  the  Church.    But 


1  An  argument  often  used  to  account  for  the  absence  of  written  liturgies  is 
the  doctrine  of  "reserve,"  an  argument  which  has  been  even  pushed  to  the 
extent  of  thus  accounting  for  the  absence  of  aii}'  detailed  account  of  the  Sacra- 
ment in  the  New  Testament  or  in  the  early  Creeds.  (Maskell,  Preface  to  the 
Ancient  Liturtpj,  pp.  xxviii.-xxxi.)  It  is  evident  that  the  same  feeling,  if  it 
operated  at  all,  would  have  prevented  such  descriptions  as  are  given  by  Justiu, 
in  a  work  avowedly  intended  for  the  outside  world. 

2  X>e  Spiritu  Sancto,  c.  27.  The  passage  is  quoted  at  length  in  Maskell  (Pref. 
p.  xxvi.)  with  the  opinions  strongly  expressed  to  the  same  effect,  of  Renaudot 
and  Lebrun,  and  tlie  confirmatory  argument  that  had  written  liturgies  existed 
they  would  have  been  discoverable  in  the  time  of  the  Diocletian  persecution. 
"There  are  no  Liturgies,"  says  Lebrun,  "earlier  than  the  fifth  century"  (iii. 
1-17). 

8  Justin,  Ajjol.  c.  07. 


Chap.  UI.]  THE   PRAYER   OF    OBLATION.  65 

extempore  prayer  always  tends  to  become  fixed  or  Litur- 
gical. If  we  hear  the  usual  Prayers  in  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  they  are  sure  to  retain  on  the  whole  the  same 
ideas,  and  often  the  very  same  words.  Thus  it  was  in 
the  early  Church,  and  thus  a  Liturgy  arose. 

There  was  one  long  prayer,  of  which  the  likenesses 
are  preserved  in  the  long  prayers  before  or  after  the  ser- 
mon in  Presbyterian  or  Nonconformist  churches,  the 
Bidding  Prayer  and  the  Prayer  of  Consecration  in  the 
Church  of  England.  The  main  difference  is  that  in  the 
early  Church  this  prayer  was  all  on  one  occasion,  namely, 
at  the  time  of  the  consecration  of  the  elements  ;  in  the 
Roman  and  in  the  English  Pi'ayer  Book  it  is,  as  it  were, 
scattered  through  the  service. 

Li  this  prayer  there  are  two  peculiarities  which  belong 
to  the  ancient  Church,  and  have  since  not  been  brought 
forward  prominently  in  any  church.  It  is  best  seen  in 
the  Roman  Missal,  which  incorporates  here,  as  elsewhere, 
passages  quite  inconsistent  with  the  later  forms  with 
which  it  has  been  incrusted. 

It  is  clear,  from  the  Missal,  that  the  priest  officiates 
as  one  of  the  people,  and  as  the  representative  of  the 
people,  seeing  that  throughout  the  Office  of  the  Mass  he 
associates  the  people  with  himself  as  concerned  equally 
with  himself  in  every  prayer  that  he  offers  and  every  act 
that  he  performs.  Just  as  he  unites  the  people's  prayers 
with  his  own  by  the  use  of  the  plural  forms,  "  We  pi'ay," 
"  We  beseech  Thee,"  instead  of  the  singular,  so  in  the 
most  solemn  acts  of  the  Eucharist,  after  the  consecration 
of  the  elements  as  well  as  before,  he  uses  the  jolural  form, 
"  We  offer,"  that  is,  we,  priest  and  people,  offer  ;  thereby 
including  the  people  with  himself  in  the  act  of  sacrific- 
ing. And  this  is  made  still  more  clear  when  he  is  told 
to  say, "  We  beseech  Thee  that  Thou  wouldest  graciously 
accept  this  offering  of  Thy  whole  family,  and  also  we 

5 


66  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

Thy  servants  and  also  Thy  holy  people  offer  to  Thy  glo- 
rious Majesty  a  pure  sacrifice."  And  not  only  so,  but 
the  attention  of  the  people  is  called  to  it  as  a  fact  which 
it  is  desirable  they  should  not  be  allowed  to  forget.  Ad- 
dressing the  people  the  priest  says,  "  All  you,  both 
brethren  and  sisters,  pray  that  my  sacrifice  and  your  sac- 
rifice, which  is  equally  yours  as  well  as  mine,  may  be 
meet  for  the  Lord."  And  so  in  the  intercessory  prayer 
of  oblation  for  the  living  the  language  which  the  priest 
uses  carefully  shows  that  the  sacrificial  act  is  not  his  but 
theirs.  "  Remember,"  he  says,  "  Thy  servants  and  Thy 
handmaids,  and  all  who  stand  around,  and  who  offer  to 
Thee  this  sacrifice  of  praise  for  themselves  and  for  all 
their  relations." 

But  there  is  the  further  question  of  what  is  the  chief 
offering  which  is  presented.     The  offering  which  is  pre- 
sented is,  throughout,  one  of  two  thinsjs  :  first 

The  offering  '  .^        •  i     .1         i         ■     ■ 

of  the  bread  the  sacriface  oi  praise  and  thanksgiving:,  as  in 

and  wine.  i  1  •    1  i  1  i  i 

the  words  which  we  nave  already  quoted  ;  or 
secondly,  the  gifts  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  especially  the 
bread  and  wine,  which  are  brought  in,  and  which  are  ex- 
pressly called  "  a  holy  sacrifice,"  and  "  the  immaculate 
host."  Every  term  which  is  applied  to  the  elements 
after  consecration  is  distinctly  and  freely  applied  to  them 
before.  What  is  done  by  the  consecration  in  the  Missal 
is  the  prayer  that  these  natural  elements  of  the  earth 
may  be  transformed  to  our  spiritual  use  by  the  blessing 
of  God  upon  them.  It  is  necessary  to  observe  that  the 
sacrifice  offered,  whether  in  the  early  Church  or  in  the 
original  Roman  Missal,  was  either  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving, which  we  still  offer,  both  clergy  and  people,  or 
else  of  the  natural  fruits  of  the  earth,  which  we  do  in- 
deed offer  in  name,  but  of  which  the  full  idea  and  mean- 
ing has  so  much  passed  out  of  the  minds  of  all  Christians 
in  modern  days,  that  we  seldom  think  of  it.     It  is  one  of 


Chap.  III.]  NATURAL   WORSHIP.  67 

the  differences  between  the  early  Church  and  our  own, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  recover,  but  which  it  is  neces- 
sary to  bear  in  mind,  both  because  the  idea  was  in  itself 
exceedingly  beautiful,  and  because  it  does  not  connect 
itself  in  the  least  degree  with  any  of  our  modern  contro- 
versies.^ 

The  ancient  form  expresses  in  the  strongest  manner 
the  goodness  of  God  in  Nature.  It  is  we  might  almost 
say  a  worship  —  or  more  properly,  an  actual  enjoyment 
and  thankful  recognition  —  of  the  gifts  of  Creation.  So 
completely  was  this  felt  in  the  early  times,  that  a  custom 
prevailed,  which  as  time  went  on  was  checked  by  the 
increasing  rigidity  of  ecclesiastical  rules,  that  not  only 
bread  and  wine,^  but  honey,  milk,  strong  drink,  and 
birds  were  offered  on  the  altar;  and  even  after  these 
were  forbidden,  ears  of  corn  and  grapes  were  allowed, 
and  other  fruits,  though  not  offered  on  the  altars,  were 
given  to  the  Bishop  and  Presbyters. 

All  this  appears  in  unmistakable  force  both  in  the 
heathen  and  the  Jewish  worship,  and  fz'om  them  it  over- 
flowed into  the  Christian,  and  received  there  an  addi- 
tional life,  from  the  tendency  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
runs  through  the  whole  of  these  early  forms  to  identify 
the  sacred  and  profane,  to  elevate  the  profane  by  making 
it  sacred,  and  to  realize  the  sacred  by  making  it  common. 
It  lingers  in  a  few  words  in  the  English  Prayer  for  the 
Church  Militant,  "  the  oblations  which  we  offer,"  and  in 
the  expression  "  It  is  very  meet  and  right  to  give  thanks." 
It  included  the  recollection  of,  and  the  prayers  for,  the 
main  objects  of  human  interest  —  the  Emperor,  the 
army,  their  friends  dead  and  living,  the  rain,  the  springs 
and  wells  so  dear  in  Eastern  countries,  the  rising  of  the 

1  The  Mass  disowned  by  t/ie  Missal.    A  very  able  and  exhaustive  paper  in  the 
Madras  Times  by  Bishop  Caldwell,  Oct.  1867. 

2  Apostolical  Canons,  2. 


68  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

Nile  SO  dear  in  Egypt,  the  floods  to  be  deprecated  at 
Constantinople.     The  whole  of   their  common   life  was 
made  to  pass  before  them.     Nothing  was  "  common  or 
unclean  "  to  them  at  that  moment.     They  gave  than! 
for  it,  they  hoped  that  it  might  be  blessed  and  continu' 
to  them.^ 

There  is  a  representation  in  the  catacombs  of  a  m-  ^ 
and  a  woman  joining  in  the  offering  of  bread.  Tuo 
woman,  it  is  sometimes  said,  is  the  Church  ;  but  if  so 
this  confirms  the  same  idea.  The  bread  and  wine  are 
still  in  England,  as  above  noticed,  the  gifts  not  of  the 
minister,  but  of  the  parish,  and  this  oifering  by  the  con- 
gregation, which  prevailed  in  the  Catholic  countries  of 
Europe  generally  till  the  tenth  century,  lingered  on  in 
some  French  abbey's  till  the  eighteenth.  It  is  this  offer- 
ing of  the  fruits  of  the  earth  to  which  Cyprian  ^  and 
IrenfBus  ^  give  the  name  of  "  sacrifice."  It  is  probable 
tliat  the  tenacity  with  which  this  word  clung  to  these 
outward  elements  in  the  early  ages  was  occasioned  by 
the  eagerness  to  claim  for  Christian  worship  something 
which  resembled  the  old  animal  and  vegetable  sacrifices 
of  Judaism  and  heathenism,  and  that  its  comparative 
disappearance  from  all  Christian  worship  in  later  times 
in  like  manner  was  coincident  with  the  disappearance  of 
the  temples  and  altars  alike  of  Palestine  and  of  Italy. 

This  offering  formed  the  main  bulk  of  the  prayer. 
Then  followed  what  in  modern  times  would  be  called 
The  Lord's  "the  consecratiou."  The  earlier  accounts  of 
Prayer.  ^j-^g  Liturgy,  Avhcthcr  in  Justin  or  Irenteus, 
agree  in  the  statement  that  after  the  completion  of  the 
offering  followed  an  invocation  to  the  Spirit  of  God  "  to 

1  See  Biinsen.  Christianity  and  Mnnhind,  vii.  2-1. 

2  Cyprian,  De  Op.  p.  203,  ed.  Tell.  (Palmer's  Antiquities,  ii.  86). 

8  See  the  Pfaffian  frat^iuent  of  Irenajus  quoted  in  Arnold's  Fragments  on  the 
Church,  p.  129;  and  this,  with  all  the  other  passages  from  Irenicus  bearing  on 
the  question  in  Bunseii's  Christianity  and  Mankind,  ii.  424-29. 


Chap.  III.]  THE   LORD'S   PRAYER.  69 

make  the  bread  and  wine  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ," 
But  in  what  did  it  consist?  Here  again  seems  to  be  dis- 
closed a  divergence  of  which  very  slight  traces  remain  in 
any  celebrations  of  the  Eucharist,  whether  Protestant  or 
Catholic.  It  is  at  least  probable  that  it  consisted  of 
nothing  else  than  the  Lord's  Prayer.  This  was  the  im- 
mense importance  .of  the  Lord's  Prayer  ;  not  as  with  us, 
repeated  many  times  over,  but  reserved  for  this  one 
prominent  place.  The  first  Eucharistic  prayer  was  ampli- 
fied more  or  less  according  to  the  capacities  of  the  minis- 
ter. The  Lord's  Prayer  was  the  one  fixed  formula.  It 
was  in  fact  the  whole  "  liturgy "  properly  so  called. 
"  The  change  "  —  whatever  it  were  that  he  meant  by  it 
—  "  the  change  of  the  bread  and  wine  into  the  body  and 
blood  of  Christ,"  says  Justin,  "is  by  the  Word  of  Prayer 
which  comes  from  Him,"  ^  "  It  was  the  custom,"  says 
Gregory  the  First,  "  of  the  Apostles  to  consecrate  the 
oblation  only  by  the  Lord's  Prayer."  There  is  a  trace 
of  its  accommodation  to  this  purpose  of  giving  a  moral 
and  spiritual  purport  to  the  natural  gifts  in  the  variation 
recorded  by  Tertullian,  where,^  instead  of  "  Thy  king- 
dom come,"  it  is  "  May  Thy  Holy  Spirit  come  upon  us 
and  purify  us,"  It  is  also  obvious  that  "  Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread  "  would  thus  gain  a  peculiar  signifi- 
cance, "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us 
from  evil,"  had  also  a  peculiar  stress  laid  upon  it.^  It 
also  lingers  in  the  Consecration  Prayer  of  the  Eastern 

1  Compare  Justin,  Apol.  66;  Jerome,  Adv.  Pelag.  3:  "Apostolos  quotidie 
Orationem  Domini  solitos  dicere."  (Maskell,  Pref.  p.  xxxviii.)  See  also  Am- 
brosiaster,  De  Sacra  mends,  iv.  4:  "consecrated  by  the  words  of  Christ." 
Bunsen,  vii.  15,  5.5;  ii.  177. 

2  Adv.  Marcion,  iv.  21. 

3  Cardinal  Bona  [Rer.  Lit.  i.  5)  and  Mr.  Masliell  ^Preface,  pp.  xx.-xxii.) 
endeavor  to  attenuate  the  force  of  this  passage  by  quoting  passages  from  Wala- 
fridus  Strabo  and  later  writers,  and  by  their  own  conjectures,  that  "at  least  the 
words  of  the  institution  were  also  recited."  But  of  this  there  is  not  a  trace, 
either  in  Gregory  or  Justin.    Bunsen,  vii.  121. 


70  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  III. 

Church,  where  the  petition  for  the  coming  of  the  Spirit 
is  amplified,  and  made  the  chief  point  in  the  consecration. 
In  the  East  the  whole  congregation  joined  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer,^  and  thus  participated  in  the  consecration.  In 
the  Coptic  Church,  accordingly,  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  the 
only  part  of  the  service  which  is  recited  in  Arabic  —  the 
vulgar  tongue.^  In  the  Russian  Church  it  is  sung  by  the 
choir ;  and  of  all  the  impressive  effects  produced  by  the 
magnificent  swell  of  human  voices  in  the  Imperial 
Chapel  of  the  Winter  Palace  at  St.  Petersburg,  none  is 
greater  than  the  recitation  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  by  the 
choir  w^ithout,  while  the  consecration  goes  forward  within. 
In  the  Mozarabic  Liturgy  the  people  said  Amen  to  every 
clause  except  the  fourth,  where  they  said.  Quia  es  Deus.^ 
In  the  West  the  priest  alone  recited  it.  But  both  in  the 
East  and  the  West  the  consecration  was  not  complete 
till  it  had  been  ratified  in  the  most  solemn  way  by  the 
congregation.  For  it  was  at  this  point  that  there  came, 
like  the  peal  of  thunder,  the  one  word  which  has  lasted 
through  all  changes  and  all  Liturgies  —  the  word  which 
was  intended  to  express  the  entire,  truthful  assent  of  the 
people  to  what  was  done  and  said  —  Amen. 

Then  came  forward  the  deacons  and  gave  the  bread, 
the  water  and  the  wine  to  all  who  were  present,  and  then 
to  those  who  were  absent.  The  latter  half  of  the  practice 
has  perished  everywhere.  For  what  is  called  the  "res- 
ervation," or  even  taking  the  sacramental  elements  to 
the  occasional  sick,  is  evidently  a  totally  different  prac- 
tice from  that  of  enabling  the  absent  members  of  the 
community  to  join  in  the  ordinance  itself. 

These  are  the  original  elements  of  the  Christian  Lit- 
urgy.    The  Lord's  Prayer,  which  was  thus  once  conspicu- 

1  Bunsen,  vii.  230. 

2  Kenaudot,  Lit.  Or.  i.  262. 

8  Les  Anciennes  Liturgies,  p.  671- 


Chap.  III.]  THE   SERVICE.  71 

ous,  has  lost  its  place.  In  the  Roman  Church,  as  well  as 
the  Eastern,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  Gregory  the  Great, 
it  now  follows  the  Prayer  of  Consecration,^  In  the  Clem- 
entine Liturgy  it  is  omitted  altogether.^  In  the  first 
English  Liturgy  of  Edward  VL,  as  in  that  introduced 
by  Laud  into  Scotland,  it  occurs  after  the  Prayer  of  Con- 
secration, but  still  before  the  administration.  In  the 
present  Liturgy  it  is  separated  from  the  Consecration 
Prayer  altogether ;  though  on  the  other  hand,  as  if  to 
give  it  more  dignity,  it  is  twice  repeated. 

The  sacramental  words  have  passed  through  three 
stages  :  first,  the  Lord's  Prayer  ;  then  in  the  East,  the 
Prayer  of  Invocation  ;  then  in  the  West,  the  words  of 
institution.^  There  is  a  spiritual  meaning  in  each  of 
these  three  forms.  The  original  form  was  the  most 
spiritual  of  all.  The  Western  form,  though  excellent 
as  bringing  out  the  commemorative  character  of  the  sac- 
rament, is  perhaps  the  most  liable  to  fall  into  a  mechan- 
ical observance.  This  has  been  reached  in  the  fullest 
degree,  in  the  opinion  which  has  been  entertained  in  the 
Roman  Church  that  the  words  must  be  recited  by  the 
priest  secretly,  lest  laymen  overhearing  them  should  in- 
discreetly repeat  them  over  ordinary  bread  and  wine, 
and  thus  inadvertently  transform  them  into  celestial  sub- 
stances. Such  an  incident,  it  was  believed,  had  actually 
taken  place  in  the  case  of  some  shepherds  who  thus 
changed  their  bread  and  wine  in  a  field  into  flesh  and 
blood,  and  were  struck  dead  by  a  divine  judgment.* 

This  is  the  summary  of  the  celebration  of  the  early 

1  Neale,  Introd.  570,  622. 

2  See  the  long  and  strange  arguments  to  account  for  this  in  Palmer,  i.  40, 
and  Maskell,  Pref.  xxxviii. 

3  The  Western  Church  has  not  used  a  Prayer  of  Invocation  for  a  thousand 
years.  How  exclusively  Western  is  the  notion  that  the  words  of  institution 
have  the  effect  of  consecration  is  clear  from  the  authorities  quoted  in  Maskell, 
pp.  cv.,  cvi.,  cxv. 

*  See  the  authorities  quoted  in  Maskell,  Preface,  p.  ciii. 


72  THE   EUCHARIST.  [Chap.  IH. 

Sacrament,  so  fai*  as  we  can  attach  it  to  tlie  framewoi'k 
furnished  by  Justin.  But  there  are  a  few  fragments  of 
ancient  worship,  which,  though  we  cannot  exactly  adjust 
their  place,  partly  belong  to  the  second  century.  Some 
have  perished,  and  some  continue.  In  the  morning  was 
an  antistrophic  hymn  (perhaps  the  germ  of  the  "  Te 
Deuni "}  to  Christ  ^  as  God,  and  also  the  sixty-third 
Psalm.  In  the  evening  there  was  the  hundred  and  forty- 
first  Psalni.2  The  evening  hymn  on  bringing  in  the 
candles,  as  now  in  Mussulman  countries,  is  a  touching 
reminiscence  of  the  custom  in  the  Eastern  Church.  The 
'' Sursum  corda "  ("Lift  up  your  hearts"),  and  the 
"  Holy,  holy,  holy,"  were  parts  of  the  hymns  of  which 
we  find  traces  in  the  accounts  of  all  the  old  Liturgies. 
The  "  Gloria  in  excelsis  "  was  sung  at  the  beginning  of 
the  service.  Down  to  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh 
century,  it  was  (except  on  Easter  Day)  only  said  by 
Bishops.'^ 

This  survey  brings  before  us  the  wide  diversity  and 
yet  unity  of  Christian  worship.  That  so  fragile  an  ordi- 
nance should  have  survived  so  many  shocks,  so  many  su- 
perstitions, so  many  centuries,  is  in  itself  a  proof  of  the 
immense  vitality  of  the  religion  which  it  represents  —  of 
the  prophetic  insight  of  its  Founder. 

1  Pliny,  Ep.  x.  97.  2  Bunsen,  ii.  50.  «  Maskell,  p.  25. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACRITICE. 

It  is  proposed  to  bring  out  in  more  detail  what  is 
meant  by  Sacrifice  in  the  Christian  Church.  In  order 
to  do  this,  we  must  first  understand  what  is  meant  by  it, 
first  in  the  Jewish  and  Pagan  dispensations,  and  secondly 
in  the  Christian  dispensation. 

I.  We  hardly  think  sufficiently  what  was  the  nature 
of  an  ancient  sacrifice.  Let  us  conceive  the  changes 
which  would  be  necessary  in  any  church  in  order  to  make 
it  fit  for  such  a  ceremony.  In  the  midst  of  an  open 
court,  so  that  the  smoke  of  the  fire  and  the  odors  of  the 
slain  animals  might  go  up  into  the  air,  as  from  the 
hearths  of  our  ancient  baronial  or  collegiate  halls,  stood 
the  Altar  —  a  huge  platform — detached  from  all  around, 
and  with  steps  approaching  it  from  behind  and  from  be- 
fore, from  the  right  and  from  the  left.  Around  this 
structure,  as  in  the  shambles  of  a  great  city,  were  col- 
lected, bleating,  lowing,  bellowing,  the  oxen,  sheep,  and 
goats,  in  herds  and  flocks,  which  one  by  one  were  led  up 
to  the  altar,  and  with  the  rapid  stroke  of  the  sacrificer's 
knife,  directed  either  by  the  king  or  priest,  they  received 
their  death-wounds.  Their  dead  carcases  lay  throughout 
the  court,  the  pavement  streaming  with  their  blood,  their 
quivering  flesh  placed  on  the  altar  to  be  burnt,  the  black 
columns  of  smoke  going  up  to  the  sky,  the  remains  after- 
wards consumed  by  the  priests  or  worshippers  who  were 
gathered  for  the  occasion  as  to  an  immense  banquet.^ 

1  See  an  exhaustive  account  of  the  matter  in  Evfa.ld' s  AUerthumer,  pp.  29-84. 


74  THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACRIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

This  was  a  Jewish  sacrifice.  This,  with  slight  varia- 
tion, was  tlie  form  of  heatlien  sacrifice  also.  This  is  still 
the  form  of  sacrifice  in  the  great  Mahometan  Sanctuary  ^ 
at  Mecca.  This  —  except  that  the  victims  were  not  irra- 
tional animals,  but  human  beings  —  was  the  dreadful 
spectacle  presented  in  the  sacred  inclosure  at  Coomassie, 
in  Ashantee,  as  it  was  in  the  Carthaginian  and  Phoenician 
temples  of  old  time. 

11.  All  these  sacrifices,  in  every  shape  or  form,  have 
long  disappeared  from  the  religions  of  the  civilized  world. 
Substitution  Already,  under  the  ancient  dispensation,  the 
of  new  ideas,  yoi^es  of  Psaluiist  and  Prophet  had  been  lifted 
up  against  them.  "  Sacrifice  and  meat-offering  Thou 
wouldest  not ; "  "  Thinkest  thou  that  I  will  eat  bull's 
flesh  or  drink  the  blood  of  goats ; "  "I  delight  not  in  the 
blood  of  bullocks,  or  of  lambs,  or  of  he-goats;"  "  I  will 
not  accept  your  burnt-offerings  or  your  meat-offerings, 
neither  will  I  regard  the  peace-offerings  of  your  fat 
beasts." 

Has  sacrifice  tlien  entirely  ceased  out  of  religious  wor- 
ship? And  had  those  old  sacrifices  no  spiritual  meaning 
hid  under  their  mechanical,  their  strange,  must  we  not 
even  say  their  revolting,  forms  ? 

In  themselves  they  have  entirely  ceased.  Of  all  J;he 
forms  of  ancient  worship  they  are  the  most  repugnant  to 
our  feelings  of  humane  and  of  Divine  religion.  But  there 
was  in  these,  as  in  most  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  old 
world,  a  higher  element  which  it  has  been  the  purpose 
of  Christianity  to  bring  out.  In  point  of  fact,  the  name 
of  "  Sacrifice  "  has  survived,  after  the  form  has  perished. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  go  back  to  the  ancient  sacrifices, 
and  ask  what  was  their  object.  It  was,  in  one  word,  an 
endeavor,  whether  from  I'emorse,  or  thankfulness,  or  fear, 
to  approach  the  Unseen  Divinity.     It  was  an  attempt  to 

1  Burton's  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 


Chap.  IV.]  PRAYER   AND   THANKSGIVING.  75 

propitiate,  to  gratify,  the  Supreme  Power,  by  giving  up 
something  dear  to  ourselves  which  was  also  dear  to  Him, 
—  to  feed,  to  nourish,  as  it  were,  the  great  God  above  by 
the  same  food  by  which  we  also  are  fed,  —  to  send  mes- 
sages to  Him  by  the  smoke,  the  sweet-smelling  odor 
which  went  up  from  the  animals  which  the  sacrificer  had 
slain  or  caused  to  be  slain.  The  one  purpose  which  is 
given  after  every  sacrifice  in  the  first  chapter  of  Levit- 
icus ^  is  that  it  "  shall  make  a  sweet  savor  unto  the 
Lord." 

Now,  in  the  place  of  this  gross,  earthly  conception  of 
the  approach  of  man  to  God,  arose  gradually  three  totally 
different  ideas  of  approaching  God,  which  have  entirely 
superseded  the  old  notion  of  priest  and  altar  and  victim 
and  hecatomb  and  holocaust  and  incense,  and  to  which, 
because  of  their  taking  the  place  of  those  ancient  cere- 
monies, the  name  of  sacrifice  has  in  some  degree  been 
always  applied. 

1.  The  first  is  the  elevation  of  the  heart  towards  God 
in  prayer  and  thanksgiving.  In  the  ancient  Jewish  and 
Pagan  public  worship,  there  was, properly  speak- 
ing, no  prayer  and  no  praise.  Whatever  devo-  thanks- 
tion  the  people  expressed  was  only  through  the 
dumb  show  of  roasted  flesh  and  ascending  smoke  and 
fragrance  of  incense.  But  the  Psalmist  and  Prophets  in- 
troduced the  lofty  spiritual  thought,  that  there  was  some- 
thing much  more  acceptable  to  the  Divine  nature,  much 
more  capable  of  penetrating  the  Sanctuary  of  the  Un- 
seen, than  these  outward  things,  —  namely,  the  words 
and  thoughts  of  the  divine  speech  and  intellect  of  man. 
To  these  reasonable  utterances,  accordingly,  by  a  bold 
metaphor,  the  Prophets  transferred  the  phrase  which  had 
hitherto  been  used  for  the  slaughter  of  beasts  at  the  altar. 
In  the  141st  Psalm,  the  Psalmist  says,  "  Let  the  lifting 

1  Lev.  i,  13,  27,  ii.  2,  12,  iii.  8,  26. 


76  THE   EUCHARISTIC    SACRIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

up  of  my  hands  in  prayer  be  to  Thee  as  the  evening  sacri- 
fice," that  is,  let  the  simple  peaceful  act  of  prayer  take 
the  place  of  the  blood-stained  animal,  struggling  as  in 
the  hands  of  a  butcher.  In  the  50th  Psalm,  after  repu- 
diating altogether  the  value  of  dead  bulls  and  goats,  the 
Psalmist  says,  "Whosoever  off ereth,  —  whosoever  brings 
up  as  a  victim  to  God,  —  thankful  hymns  of  praise,  he 
it  is  that  honoreth  Me."  In  the  51st  Psalm,  after  reject- 
ing altogether  burnt-offerings  and  sacrifices  for  sin,  the 
Psalmist  says,  "  the  true  sacrifice  of  God,"  far  more  than 
this,  "is  a  broken  and  contrite  heart."  This  was  a 
mighty  change,  and  it  has  gone  on  growing  ever  since. 
The  psalms  of  the  Psalmists,  the  prayers  of  the  Prophets, 
took  the  place  of  the  dead  animals  which  the  priests  had 
slain.  The  worship  of  the  Synagogue,  which  consisted 
only  of  prayer  and  praise,  superseded  the  worship  of  the 
Temple,  which  consisted  almost  entirely  of  slaughtering 
and  burning ;  and  the  worship  of  the  Christian  Church, 
which  consisted  also  only  of  prayer  and  praise,  superseded 
both  Temple  and  Synagogue.  As  it  has  sometimes  been 
said  that  the  invention  of  printing  inflicted  a  deathblow 
on  mediseval  architecture,  so  much  more  did  the  dis- 
covery, the  revelation,  of  prayer  and  praise,  kill  the  old 
institution  of  sacrifice. 

It  would  have  seemed  strange  to  an  old  Jewish  or 
Pagan  worshipper  to  be  told  that  the  Deity  would  be 
more  intimately  approached  by  a  word  or  a  series  of 
words,  invisible  to  sense  or  touch,  than  by  the  tangible, 
material  shapes  of  fat  oxen  or  carefully  reared  sheep. 
Yet  so  it  is ;  and  however  much  modern  thought  may 
disparage  the  use  of  articulate  prayer,  yet  there  is  no 
one  who  will  not  say  that  the  marvellous  faculty  of  ex- 
pressing the  various  shades  of  mental  feeling  in  the 
grandest  forms  of  human  speech  is  not  an  immense  ad- 
vance on  the  irrational,  inarticulate,  mechanical  work 
which  made  the  place  of  worship  a  vast  slaughter-house. 


Chap.  IV.]  SELF-SACRIFICE.  77 

2.  Secondly,  in  the  place  of  the  early  sacrifices,  which 
were  of  no  use  to  any  one,  or  which  were  only  of  use  as 
the  great  banquets  of  a  civic  feast,  was  revealed  charitable 
the  truth  that  the  offerings  acceptable  to  God  «^°'''«- 
were  those  which  contributed  to  the  good  of  mankind. 
Thus  the  Prophet  Hosea  tells  us  that  "  God  will  have 
mercy  instead  of  sacrifice."  The  Proverbs  and  the  Book 
of  Tobit  tell  us  that  sins  are  purged  away,  not  by  the 
blood  of  senseless  animals,  but  by  kindness  to  the  poor. 
Beneficent,  useful,  generous  schemes  for  the  good  of  man- 
kind are  the  substitutes  for  those  useless  offerings  of  the 
ancient  world.  And  because  such  beneficent  acts  can 
rarely  be  rendered  except  at  some  cost  and  pain  and  loss 
to  ourselves,  the  word  "  sacrifice "  has  gradually  been 
appropriated  in  modern  language  to  such  cost  and  pain 
and  loss.  "  Such  an  one  did  such  an  act,"  we  say,  "but 
it  was  a  great  sacrifice  for  him." 

3.  And  this  leads  to  the  third  or  chief  truth  which 
has  sprung  up  in  place  of  the  ancient  doctrine  of  sacri- 
fices.    It  is  that  the  sacrifice  which  God  values  geif.gacri- 


fioe 


more  than  anything  else  is  the  willing  obedi- 
ence of  the  heart  to  the  eternal  law  of  truth  and  good- 
ness —  the  willing  obedience,  even  though  it  cost  life  and 
limb,  and  blood  and  suffering  and  death.  The  Psalmist, 
after  saying  that  "  Sacrifice  and  offering  for  sin  were  not 
required,"  declared  that  in  the  place  thereof,  "  Lo,  I  come 
to  do  Thy  will,  O  my  God."  The  Prophets  declared 
that  to  obey  was  better  than  sacrifice,  and  to  "  hearken  " 
to  God's  laws  was  better  than  the  fattest  portions  of  rams 
or  of  oxen  ;  that  "  to  do  justly  and  walk  humbly  was 
more  than  rivers  of  oil  or  ten  thousands  of  burnt-offer- 
ings." The  sacrifice,  the  surrender  of  self,  the  fragrance 
of  a  holy  and  upright  life,  was  the  innermost  access  to 
the  Divine  nature,  of  which  every  outward  sacrifice,  how- 
ever costly,  was  but  a  poor  and  imperfect  shadow.    This 


78  THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACEIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

is  the  true  food  fit  for  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  because  it 
is  the  only  sustaining  food  of  the  best  spirit  of  man. 

These  three  things  then,  the  lifting  up  of  the  heart  in 
words  of  devotion  to  God,  the  performance  of  kindly  and 
useful  deeds  to  men,  and  the  dedication  of  self,  are  the 
three  things  by  which  the  Supreme  Goodness  and  Truth, 
according  to  true  Religion,  is  pleased,  propitiated,  satis- 
fied. 

III.  In  the  great  exemplar  and  essence  of  Christianity, 
these  three  things  are  seen  in  perfection. 

In  Jesus  Christ  there  was  the  complete  lifting  up  of 

the  soul  to  God  in  prayer,  of  which  He  was  Himself  the 

most  perfect    example,   and  of   which  He  has 

exemplified  .  -^  '■ 

in  Jesus        givcu  US  the  most  perfcct  pattern.     The  Lord's 

Christ.  °^  .  ^  ^    ,  . 

Prayer  is  the  sweet-smelling  incense  of  all 
churches  and  of  all  nations. 

In  Jesus  Christ,  who  went  about  doing  good,  who 
lived  and  died  for  the  sake  of  man,  there  was  the  most 
complete  beneficence,  compassion,  and  love. 

In  Jesus  Christ,  who  lived  not  for  Himself,  but  for 
others ;  who  shed  His  blood  that  man  might  come  to 
God  :  whose  meat,  whose  food,  whose  daily  bread  it  was 
"  to  do  His  Father's  will,"  and  whose  whole  life  and  death 
was  summed  up  in  the  words,  "  Not  My  will,  but  Thine 
be  done,"  was  the  most  complete  instance  of  that  self- 
denial  and  self-dedication,  which  fi'om  Him  has  come  to 
be  called  "  self-sacrifice ; "  and  thus  in  Him  all  those  an- 
ticipations and  aspirations  of  the  Psalmists  and  Prophets 
were  amply  and  largely  fulfilled.  Thus  by  this  true 
sacrifice  of  Himself,  He  abolished  forever  those  false 
sacrifices. 

IV.  But  here  arises  the  question.  How  far  can  any 
sacrifice  be  continued  in  the  Christian  Church  now  ? 
This  has  been  in  part  answered  by  showing  what  were 
the  universal  spiritual  truths  which  the  Prophets  jjut  in 


Chap.  IV.]  SACRIFICES   IN   THE   CHRISTIAN   CHURCH.  79 

the  place  of  the  ancient  sacrifices  —  and  how  these  spirit- 
ual truths  were  fulfilled  in  the  Founder  of  our  religion. 
But  it  may  make  the  whole  subject  more  clear  Thesaori- 
if  we  show  how  these  same  truths  are  carried  ciSstia'n^ 
on  almost  in  the  same  words  by  the  Apostles.  c'^""='i- 
The  word  "sacrifice  "  is  not  applied  in  any  sense  in  the 
Gospels,  unless,  in  the  seventeenth  chapter  of  St.  John, 
the  word  "  Consecrate  "  may  be  so  read.  But  there  are 
several  cases  in  the  other  books  in  which  it  is  employed 
in  this  sense.  All  Christians  are  "kings  and  priests."  ^ 
All  Christians  can  at  all  times  offer  those  real  spiritual 
sacrifices  of  which  those  old  heathen  and  Jewish  sacri- 
fices were  only  the  shadows  and  figures,  and  which  could 
only  be  offered  at  stated  occasions,  by  a  particular  order 
of  men.  When  the  word  is  used,  it  is  used  solely  in  those 
three  senses  of  which  we  have  been  speaking. 

"  Let  us  offei',"  says  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  "  the 
sacrifice  of  praise  always  to  God,  that  is  the  fruit  of  lips 
giving  thanks  to  His  name."  '^  This,  the  continual  duty 
of  thankfulness,  is  the  first  sacrifice  of  the  Christian 
Church.  "  To  do  good  and  to  distribute  forget  not  " 
(says  the  same  Epistle),  "for  it  is  with  such  sacrifices^ 
that  God  is  well  pleased  ; "  and  again,  St.  Paul  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Philippians  says  of  the  contribution  which 
his  friends  at  Philippi  had  sent  to  him  to  assist  him  in 
sickness  and  distress,  that  it  was  "  the  odor  of  a  sweet 
smell,  a  sacrifice  acceptable,  well-pleasing  to  God." 
This,  the  duty  of  Christian  usefulness  and  beneficence,  is 
the  second  sacrifice  of  the  Christian  Church.  "  I  beseech 
you  to  present  your  bodies  reasonable,  holy  and  living 
sacrifices  unto  God."  ^  This  perpetual  self-dedication  of 
ourselves  to  the  Supreme  Good  is  the  third  and  chief 
sacrifice  of  the  Christian  Church  always  and  everywhere, 

1  Rev.  i.  6.  2  Heb.  xiii.  15.  3  Heb.  xiii.  16. 

*  Roru.  xii.  1;  comp.  1  Pet.  ii.  5. 


80  THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACRIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

and  it  is  also  the  sense  in  which,  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Ephesians,^  Christ  is  said  to  have  "  given. Himself  for  us 
an  offering  and  a  sacrifice  to  God  for  a  sweet-smelling 
savor." 

In  these  three  senses  the  Christian  Religion,  whilst 
destroying  utterly  and  forever  all  outward  sacrifices, 
whether  animal  sacrifice  or  vegetable  sacrifice  or  human 
sacrifice,  is  yet,  in  a  moral  and  spiritual  sense,  sacrificial 
from  beginning  to  end.  Every  position,  every  aspect  of 
every  true  Christian,  east  or  west,  or  north  or  south,  in 
church  or  out  of  church,  is  a  sacrificial  position.  Every 
Christian  is,  in  the  only  sense  in  which  the  word  is  used 
in  the  New  Testament,  "  a  priest  of  good  things  to  come," 
to  offer  up  "  spiritual  sacrifices  acceptable  to  God  through 
Jesus  Christ."  Every  domestic  hearth,  every  holy  and 
peaceful  death-bed,  every  battle-field  of  duty,  every  arena 
of  public  or  private  life,  is  the  altar  from  which  the 
thoughts  and  energies  of  human  souls  and  spirits  ought 
to  be  forever  ascending  to  the  Father  of  all  goodness. 
We  are  not  to  say  that  the  use  of  the  word  "  sacrifice  " 
in  this  moral  and  spiritual  sense  is  a  metaphor  or  figure 
of  speech,  and  that  the  use  of  the  word  in  its  gross  and 
carnal  sense  is  the  substance.  So  far  as  there  can  be  any 
sacrifice  in  the  Christian  Religion,  it  is  the  moral  and 
spiritual  sense  which  is  the  enduring  substance  ;  the  ma- 
terial and  carnal  sacrifice  was  but  the  passing  shadow. 

V.  But  there  may  still  arise  an  intermediate  question, 
and  that  is  —  In  what  sense,  over  and  above  this  com- 
plete and  ideal  sacrifice  of  our  great  Example,  —  over 
and  above  this  essential  sacrifice  of  our  own  daily  lives, 
—  in  what  sense  is  there  any  sacrifice  in  our  outward 
worship,  especially  in  the  Holy  Communion  ? 

It  is  clear  from  what  has  been  said,  that  in  order  to 
claim  any  share  in  the  true  Christian  sacrifice,  whether 

1  Eph.  V.  2;  compare  Heb.  ix.  14,  x.  5-12. 


Chap.  IV.]  THE   SACRIFICE  OF   THANKSGIVING.  81 

that  rendered  once  for  all  by  Jesus  Christ,  or  that  offered 
by  all  good  Christians  in  every  hour  of  their  lives,  any 
sacrifice  in  our  outward  worship  must  belong  to  one  or 
other  of  these  three  essential  characteristics  which  we 
have  mentioned,  1.  Prayer  and  praise ;  2.  Beneficence ; 
3.  Self-devotion  and  self-dedication. 

1.  The  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is  certainly, 
as  its  name  of  "  Eucharist "  implies,  as  it  is  called  in 
the  English  Communion  Service,  "a  sacrifice  of 

•,,         ,         ..  ,.      f     .       ,  .  i-i  The  sacrifice 

praise  and  thanksgivmg.  It  is  this  winch  makes  of  tuanks- 
us  say  in  a  part  of  the  service,  which  belongs  to 
its  most  ancient  fragments,  "  It  is  very  meet,  right,  and 
our  bounden  duty,  that  we  should  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places,  but  chiefly  now,  give  thanks  to  Thee."  And  in 
the  ancient  services  of  the  Church,  of  which  only  a  very 
slight  trace  remains  in  our  own,  or  in  any  Church  now, 
this  thanksgiving  was  yet  further  expressed  by  the  Chris- 
tian people  bringing  to  the  table  the  loaves  of  bread  and 
the  cups  of  wine,  as  samples  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  for 
which  every  day  and  hour  of  their  lives  they  wish  to  ex- 
press their  gratitude.  In  the  English  Church  this  is  in- 
dicated only  by  the  few  words  where  in  the  Prayer  for 
the  Church  Militant  we  say,  "  We  (i.  e.  not  the  clergy- 
man, but  the  people)  offer  unto  Thee  our  oblations."  In 
the  Roman  Church,  this  and  this  only  was  what  was 
originally  meant  by  the  sacrifice,  the  host,  or  offering  ; 
not  a  dead  corpse,  but  the  daily  bread  and  wine  of  our 
earthly  sustenance,  offered  not  by  the  priest,  but  by  the 
whole  Christian  congregation,  as  an  expression  of  their 
thankfulness  for  the  gracious  kindness  of  God  our  Father 
in  His  beautiful  and  bountiful  creation. 

It  is  true  that  in  a  later  part  of  the  service,  the  bread 

and  wine  are  made  to  represent,  as  in  the  Last  Supper, 

the  Body   and   Blood,  that  is,  the  inmost  spirit  of  the 

dying  Redeemer.     But  at  the  time  of  the  service  when 

6 


82  THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACRIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

in  the  Ancient  Liturgies  they  were  offered  by  the  con- 
gregation and  by  the  minister,  and  when  they  were  called 
by  the  name  of  "  sacrifice,"  or  "  victim,"  they  represented 
only  the  natural  products  of  the  earth.  It  was  as  if  the 
early  Church  had  meant  to  say — "In  Pagan  and  Jewish 
times  there  were  human  sacrifices,  animal  sacrifices.  In 
Christian  times  this  has  ceased  ;  we  wish  to  express  to 
God  our  thankfulness  for  the  daily  bread  that  strengthens 
man's  heart,  and  the  wine  that  makes  glad  our  hearts, 
and  we  express  our  gratitude  by  bringing  our  bread  and 
wine  for  the  common  enjoyment  and  joint  participation 
of  the  whole  Christian  community." 

2.  This  brings  us  to  the  second  idea  of  sacrifice,  that 

is,  the  rendering  of  acts   of  kindness   to  our  brethren. 

The    offering,    the    contribution   of  bread    and 

The  sacrifice         .  i.ip  ii  •     •       i  •/> 

of  benefi-       wuic  wuich  formcd  the  original  sacrifice  or  of- 

cence.  .  ,  , 

fering  of  the  Eucharist,  essentially  partook  of 
this  idea,  because  the  Eucharist  in  those  early  times  was 
the  common  festive  gathering  of  rich  and  poor  in  the 
same  social  meal,  to  which,  as  St.  Paul  enjoined,  every 
one  was  to  bring  his  portion.  And  further,  with  this 
practice,  of  which  almost  all  traces  have  disappeared 
from  all  modern  modes  of  administering  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, there  was  united  from  the  earliest  times  the  practice 
of  collecting  alms  and  contributions  for  the  poor,  at  the 
time  when  our  Christian  communion  and  fellowship  with 
each  other  is  most  impressed  upon  us.  This  is  the  prac- 
tice which  is  called,  in  the  English  Church  and  others, 
the  offertory,  that  is,  the  offerings,  and  which  is  urged 
upon  us  in  the  most  nloving  passages  that  can  be  drawn 
from  the  Scriptures  to  stir  up  our  Christian  compassion. 
Here  again,  it  is  clear  that  the  sacrifice,  the  offering,  is 
made  not  by  the  priest,  not  by  the  minister,  but  by  the 
congregation.  It  is  not  the  clergy  who  give  alms  or  of- 
ferings for  the  people,  it  is  the  people  who  bring  alms  or 


Chap.  IV.J         THE  SACRIFICE  OF  SELF.  83 

offerings  for  one  another  or  for  the  clergy.  They  make 
these  sacrifices  from  their  own  substance,  and  in  those 
sacrifices,  so  far  as  they  come  from  a  willing  and  bounti- 
ful heart,  God  is  well  pleased. 

3.  The  service  of  the  Sacrament,  in  whatever  form, 
expresses  the  sacrifice,  the  dedication  of  ourselves.  Even 
if  there  were  not  words  to  set  this  forth,  it  could  The  sacrifice 
not  be  otherwise.  Every  serious  communicant  °^  ^°"" 
does  at  least  for  the  moment  intend  to  declare  his  re- 
solution to  lead  a  new  life,  and  abandon  his  evil  self. 
But  in  the  English  Reformed  Church,  this,  the  highest 
form  of  sacrifice,  is,  and  was  formerly  much  more  than  in 
the  present  form,  brought  out  much  more  strongly  than 
either  in  the  Roman  Church  or  in  most  other  Protestant 
Churches.  There  is  a  solemn  Prayer  at  the  close  of  the 
service,  in  which  it  is  said,  "  Here  we  offer  and  present 
unto  Thee  ourselves,  our  souls  and  bodies,  to  be  a  reason- 
able, holy,  and  lively  sacrifice  unto  Thee.'  But  in  the 
first  Reformed  Prayer  Book  of  Edward  VI.,  this  true 
spiritual  Protestant  sacrifice  was  even  still  more  forcibly 
expressed,  for  this  dedication  of  ourselves  was  not  as 
now,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  but  was  introduced  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  Consecration  Prayer,  and  made  the 
chief  and  turning-point  of  the  whole  Liturgy.  It  was 
this  on  which  so  much  stress  was  always  laid  by  one  of 
the  profoundest  scholars  and  the  most  devout  men  of  our 
time,  of  whom  one  of  his  friends  used  to  say  that  he  was 
essentially  a  Liturgical  Christian — the  late  Chevalier 
Bunsen.  It  is  this  which  is  present  in  the  Scottish  and 
the  American  Prayer  Books,  and,  contrary  to  the  usual 
opinion  entertained  of  them,  places  them  in  the  foremost 
rank  of  Protestant  forms  of  devotion..  In  this  Prayer  it 
is  evident  that  this  the  most  important  of  the  sacrifices 
of  Christian  Religion  is  not  offered  by  the  clergy  for  the 
people,  but  is  the  offering  of  the  people  by  themselves ; 


84  THE   EUCHARISTIC   SACRIFICE.  [Chap.  IV. 

that  when  the  clergyman  saj^s,  "  we  offer,"  he  speaks  not 
of  himself  alone,  but  of  himself  only  as  one  of  them,  with 
them,  acting  and  speaking  as  their  mouthpiece  and  rep- 
resentative, and  they  speaking  and  acting  with  him  and 
for  him. 

These  are  the  three  ideas,  the  three  meanings  of  the 
sacrifice  of  the  Eucharist.  There  is  no  other  sense  of 
sacrifice  in  the  Eucharist  than  these  three,  and  these 
three  meanings  absorb  all  others.^  No  doubt  the  realities 
of  sacrifice  which  they  are  intended  to  express  are  not 
there  or  in  any  outward  sign,  but  in  actual  life,  as  when 
we  speak  of  "  a  heavy  sacrifice,"  of  "  a  self-sacrifice," 
and  the  like.  But  the  outward  sign  reminds  us  of  the 
spiritual  reality,  and  often  in  the  Lord's  Supper  the  two 
are  brought  together. 

When  we  see  the  bread  and  wine,  the  gifts  of  the  pai-- 
ish  or  people,  placed  on  the  Table,  this  should  remind  us 
of  the  deep  and  constant  thankfulness  that  we  ought  to 
feel  from  morning  till  evening  for  the  blessings  of  our 
daily  bread,  of  our  happy  lives,  —  perhaps  even  of  our 
daily  sorrows  and  sicknesses  and  trials. 

When  we  drop  into  the  plate  our  piece  of  gold  or  silver 
or  copper,  as  the  case  may  be,  this  prelude  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  slight  though  it  be,  should  remind  us  that  the 
true  Christian  Communion  requires  as  its  indispensable 
condition  true  Christian  beneficence ;  beneficence  exer- 
cised not  it  may  be  at  that  moment,  but  always,  and 
wherever  we  are,  in  the  wisest,  most  effectual  mode 
which  Christian  prudence  and  generosity  can  suggest. 

When  we  dedicate  ourselves  at  the  Table  in  remem- 
brance of  Ilim  who  dedicated  Himself  for  us  —  when  we 

1  By  a  strange  solecism  the  Eucharist  is  sometimes  called  "a  commemorative 
sacrifice."  This  is  as  if  the  Waterloo  banquet  were  called  "a  commemorative 
battle."  Still  the  sacrifice  of  ("hrist  which  it  commemorates  is  of  the  same 
kind  as  the  sacrifice  of  the  worshippers,  viz.  the  sacrifice  of  a  spotless  life  for 
the  good  of  others. 


Chap.  IV.]  ITS   EFFECTS.  85 

come  to  Him  in  order  to  be  made  strong  with  His 
strength  —  the  act,  the  words,  the  remembrance  should 
remind  us  that  not  then  only,  but  in  all  times  and  in  all 
places  ought  the  sweet-smelling  savor  of  our  lives  to  be 
ascending  towards  Him  who  delights  above  all  things  in 
a  pure,  holy,  self-sacrificing  heart  and  will. 

Other  ideas  no  doubt  there  are  besides  in  the  Eucha- 
rist. But  so  far  as  there  is  any  idea  of  sacrifice,  or  thanks- 
giving, or  offering  to  God,  whether  we  take  the  English 
Prayer  Book,  or  the  older  Liturgies  out  of  which  the 
Prayer  Book  is  formed,  it  is  the  threefold  idea  which  has 
been  described,  and  not  any  of  those  imaginary  saci-ifices 
which,  whether  in  the  English  or  the  Roman  Church  or 
in  other  churches,  have  been  in  modern  days  engrafted 
upon  it.  And  this  threefold  sacrifice  of  prayer  and  praise, 
of  generosity  and  of  self-dedication,  are  in  the  Eucharist, 
because  they  pervade  all  Christian  worship  and  life,  of 
which  the  Eucharist  is  or  ought  to  be  the  crowning  rep- 
resentation and  exemplification. 

Such  are  the  ideas  which,  imperfectly  and  dispropor- 
tionately, but  yet  sufficiently,  pervade  the  early  service 
of  the  Eucharist. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   REAL   PRESENCE. 

It  might  have  been  thought  that  in  a  religion  like 
Christianity,  which  is  distinguished  from  Judaism  and 
from  Paganism  by  its  essentially  moral  and  spiritual 
character,  no  doubt  could  have  arisen  on  the  material 
presence  of  its  Founder.  In  other  religions,  the  continu- 
ance of  such  a  presence  of  the  Founder  is  a  sufficiently 
familiar  idea.  In  Buddhism,  the  Lama  is  supposed  still 
to  be  an  incarnation  of  the  historical  Buddha.  In  Hin- 
duism, Vishnu  was  supposed  to  be  from  time  to  time 
incarnate  in  particular  persons.  In  the  Greek  and  Ro- 
man worship,  though  doubtless  with  more  confusion  of 
thought,  the  Divinities  were  believed  to  reside  in  the 
particular  statues  erected  to  their  honor  ;  and  the  cells 
or  shrines  of  the  temples  in  which  such  statues  were 
erected  were  regarded  as  "  the  habitations  of  the  God." 
In  Judaism,  although  here  again  with  many  protesta- 
tions and  qualifications,  the  "  Shechineh"  or  glory  of  Je- 
hovah was  believed  to  have  resided,  at  any  rate  till  the 
destruction  of  the  ark,  within  the  innermost  sanctuary 
of  the  Temple.  But  in  Christianity  the  reverse  of  this 
was  involved  in  the  very  essence  of  the  religion.  Not 
only  was  the  withdrawal  of  the  Founder  from  earth 
recognized  as  an  incontestable  fact  and  recorded  as  such 
in  the  ancient  creeds,  but  it  is  put  forth  in  the  original 
documents  as  a  necessary  condition  for  the  propagation 
of  His  rehgion.  "  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away." 
"  If  I  go  not  away  the  Comforter  will  not  come  unto  you." 


Chap.  V.]  EXAMPLES    OF   IT.  87 

Whenever  the  phraseology  of  the  older  religions  is  for  a 
moment  employed  in  the  Christian  Scriptures,  it  is  at 
once  lifted  into  a  higher  sphere.  "  The  Temple  "  of  the 
primitive  Christian's  object  of  worship,  "  the  Altar  "  on 
which  his  praises  were  offered,  was  not  in  any  outward 
building,  but  either  in  the  ideal  invisible  world,  or  in  the 
living  frames  and  hearts  of  men.  There  are,  indeed, 
numerous  passages  in  the  New  Testament  which  speak 
of  the  continued  presence  of  the  Redeemer  amongst  His 
people.  But  these  all  are  so  evidently  intended  in  a 
moral  and  spiritual  sense  that  they  have  in  fact  hardly 
ever  been  interpreted  in  any  other  way.  They  all  either 
relate  to  the  communion  which  through  His  Spirit  is 
maintained  with  the  spirits  of  men,  —  as  in  the  well- 
known  texts,  "  I  am  with  you  always  ;  "  "  Where  two  or 
three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  I  in 
the  midst  of  them  ; "  "I  will  come  to  you  ; "  "  Come 
unto  Me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden," — or 
else  they  express  that  remarkable  doctrine  of  Christianity, 
that  the  invisible  God,  the  invisible  Redeemer,  can  be 
best  served  and  honored  by  the  service  and  honor  of 
those  amongst  men  who  most  need  it,  whether  by  their 
characters  or  their  suffering  condition.  "  He  that  re- 
ceiveth  you  receiveth  me."  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done 
it  unto  them,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me."  "  Ye  visited 
Me."  The  Church  —  the  Christian  community  —  is  "  His 
body."  None  of  these  expressions  have  been  permanently 
divorced  from  their  high  moral  signification.  No  con- 
troversy concerning  the  mode  of  His  presence  in  holy 
thoughts,  or  heroic  lives,  or  afflicted  sufferers,  has  rent 
the  Church  asunder.  Stories  more  or  less  authentic, 
legends  more  or  less  touching,  have  represented  these 
spiritual  manifestations  of  the  departed  Founder  in  vivid 
forms  to  men.  We  have  the  well-known  incident  of  the 
apparition  of  the  Crucified  to  St.  Francis  on  the  heights 


88  THE    REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

of  Laverna,  which  issued  in  the  belief  of  the  sacred 
wounds  as  received  in  his  own  person.  We  have  the 
story  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  who,  meditating  suicide  in 
his  dungeon,  was  deterred  by  a  vision  of  the  like  appear- 
ance, from  which  he  is  said  on  waking  to  have  carved 
the  exquisite  ivory  crucifix  subsequently  transported  on 
the  shoulders  of  men  from  Barcelona  to  the  Escurial, 
where  it  is  now  exposed  to  view  in  the  great  ceremonials 
of  the  Spanish  Court.  We  have  the  conversion  of  the 
gay  Presbytei'ian  soldier,  Colonel  Gardiner,  from  a  life 
of  sin  to  a  life  of  unblemished  piety  by  the  midnight  ap- 
parition of  the  Cross  and  the  gracious  words,  "  I  have 
done  so  much  for  thee,  and  wilt  thou  do  nothing  for 
Me  ?  "  Or  again,  in  connection  with  the  other  train  of 
passages  above  cited,  there  is  the  beggar  wlio  received 
the  divided  cloak  from  St.  Martin,  and  whom  the  saint 
saw  in  the  visions  of  the  night  as  the  Redeemer  showing 
it  with  gratitude  to  the  angelic  hosts.  There  is  the  leper 
who,  when  tended  by  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungar}^,  and 
placed  in  her  bed,  appeared  to  be  the  Man  of  Sorrows, 
represented  in  the  Vulgate  rendering  of  the  53d  chapter 
of  Isaiah  as  a  leper,  "  smitten  of  God  and  afflicted." 
There  is  the  general  Protestant  sentiment  as  expressed 
in  the  beautiful  poem  of  the  Moravian  Montgomery  :  — 

A  poor  wayfaring  man  of  grief 
Hath  often  passed  me  on  my  way: 
I  did  not  pause  to  ask  His  name  — 
Whither  He  went,  or  whence  He  came  — 
Yet  tliere  was  something  in  His  ej^e 
That  won  mj'  love,  I  know  not  why. 

But  these  stories,  these  legends,  one  and  all,  either  con- 
fessedly exhibit  the  effect  produced  on  the  inward,  not 
the  outward,  sense ;  or,  even  if  some  should  contend  for 
their  actual  external  reality,  they  are  acknowledged  to 
be  rare,  exceptional,  transitory  phenomena,  arising  out  of 
and  representing  the  inner  spiritual  truth  which  is  above 
and  beyond  them. 


Chap.  V.]  EXAMPLES  OF  IT.  89 

How  is  it  then,  we  may  ask,  that  the  Presence  in  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  has  ever  been  regarded 
in  any  other  light  ?  How  is  it  that  the  expressions  in 
the  New  Testament  which  bear  on  this  subject  have  been 
interpreted  in  a  different  manner  from  the  precisely  simi- 
lar expressions  of  which  we  have  just  spoken  ? 

These  expressions,  one  would  suppose,  had  been  suffi- 
ciently guarded  in  the  original  context.  In  the  very  dis- 
course in  which  Jesus  Christ  is  represented  as  first  using 
the  terms  which  he  afterwards  represented  in  the  out- 
ward forms  of  the  parting  meal,  —  speaking  of  moral  con- 
verse with  Himself  under  the  strong  figure  of  "  eating  His 
flesh  and  drinking  His  blood,"  —  it  is  not  only  obvious  to 
every  reader  that  the  literal  sense  was  absolutely  impossi- 
ble, but  He  himself  concluded  the  whole  argument  by 
the  words  which  ought  to  have  precluded  forever  all 
question  on  the  subject :  "  The  flesh  profiteth  nothing ; 
it  is  the  spirit  that  qiiickeneth." 

This  assertion  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  character  of 
the  Presence  of  Christ  in  the  Sacrament,  as  everywhere 
else,  has,  as  we  shall  see,  never  been  wholly  obliterated. 
The  words  of  Ignatius,  "  Faith  is  the  body  of  Christ," 
and  "  Charity  is  the  blood  of  Christ ;  "  the  words  of 
Augustine,  "  Crede  et  manducasti,"  have  ever  found  an 
echo  in  the  higher  and  deeper  intelligence  of  Christendom. 
But  not  the  less,  almost  from  the  earliest  times,  and  in 
almost  every  Church,  a  countercurrent  of  thought  has 
prevailed,  which  has  endeavored  to  confine  the  Re- 
deemer's Presence  to  the  material  elements  of  the  sacred 
ordinance.  We  discover  the  first  traces  of  it,  although 
vaguely  and  indefinitely,  in  the  prayer  mentioned  by 
Justin  ]\Iartyr,  and  more  or  less  transmitted  through  the 
ancient  liturgies,  that  the  bread  and  wine  "  may  become 
the  Body  and  Blood."  We  trace  it  in  the  peculiar  cei'e- 
monial  sanctity  with  which  not  only  the  ordinance  but 


90  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

the  elements  came  to  be  invested,  during  the  first  five 
centuries.  We  see  it  in  the  scruple  which  has  descended 
even  to  our  own  time,  which  insists  on  fasting  as  a  neces- 
saiy  condition  of  the  reception  ^  of  the  Communion,  in 
flagrant  defiance  of  the  well-known  circumstances  not 
only  of  its  original  institution,  but  of  all  the  details  of  its 
celebration  during  the  whole  of  the  Apostolic  age.  We 
see  it  again  in  the  practice  (which  began  at  least  as  early 
as  Infant  Baptism,  and  which  is  still  continued  in  tbe 
Eastern  Church)  of  giving  the  Communion  to  uncon- 
scious infants.  We  see  it  finally  in  the  innumerable 
regulations  with  which  the  rite  is  fenced  about  in  the 
Roman  Catholic,  the  Greek,  and  some  of  the  Presbyterian 
Churches,  as  well  as  in  the  theories  which  have  been 
drawn  up  to  explain  or  to  enforce  the  doctrine,  and  of 
which  we  will  presently  speak  more  at  length. 

But  in  order  to  do  this  effectually,  we  must  recur  to 
the  question  suggested  above :  "  Why  is  it  that  the  spir- 
itual and  obvious  explanation,  accepted  almost  without 
murmur  or  exception  for  all  other  passages  where  the 
Divine  Presence  is  indicated,  should  have  ever  been  re- 
jected in  the  case  of  the  Eucharist,  which,  in  its  first  in- 
stitution, had  for  its  evident  object  the  expression  of  that 
identical  thought  ?  " 

It  was  a  wise  saying  of  Coleridge,  "  Presume  yourself 

1  Perhaps,  as  this  scruple  in  early  times  extended  to  bnth  sacraments,  it  had 
not  then,  in  reffard  to  the  Eucharist,  assumed  the  gross  corporeal  form  which  it 
represents  in  later  times.  But  it  may  be  -worth  while  to  give  as  as  instance, 
botli  of  the  force  with  which  it  was  held,  and  the  utter  recklessness  of  the  ex- 
ample and  teaching  of  Christ  Himself  with  which  it  was  accompanied,  tlie  fol- 
lowing passage  from  even  so  eminent  a  man  as  Chrysostom  :  "  They  say  I  have 
given  the  Communion  to  some  after  they  had  eaten;  but  if  I  did  this  let  my 
name  be  blotted  out  of  the  book  of  Bishops,  and  not  written  in  the  book  of  or- 
thodox faith.  Lo!  if  I  did  anything  of  the  sort,  Christ  will  cast  me  out  (if  His 
kinr/flom;  but  if  they  persist  in  urging  this,  and  are  contentious,  let  them  also 
pass  sentence  against  the  Lord  fliniself,  who  gave  the  Communion  to  the  Apostles 
after  supper.'"  (Ep.  128.)  —  The  Life  and  Times  of  St.  Chrysostom,  by  the 
Rev.  W.  Stephens. 


Chap.  V.]  REASONS   FOR    ITS   REJECTION.  91 

ignorant  of  a  writer's  understanding,  until  you  under- 
stand his  ignorance  ;  "  and  so  in  regard  to  doctrines  or 
ceremonies,  however  extravagant  they  may  seem  to  us,  it 
is  almost  useless  to  discuss  them  unless  we  endeavor  to 
see  how  they  have  originated. 

I.  First,  then,  it  may  be  said  that  the  material  inter- 
pretation of  this  ordinance  arose  from  a  defect  in  the  in- 
tellectual  condition   of   the  early  recipients  of 

/-ii      •      •        •  1-11  •  1         •  Misuse  of 

L-hristianitv,  reacJiinof  back  to  its  very  begin-  parabolical 

.  .  ,  lauguage. 

ning.  The  parabolical  and  figurative  language 
of  the  Gospel  teaching  was  chosen  designedly.  There 
were  many  reasons  for  its  adoption,  some  accidental,  some 
permanent.  It  was  the  language  of  the  East,  and  there- 
fore the  almost  necessary  vehicle  of  thought  for  One  who 
spoke  as  an  Oriental  to  Orientals.  It  was  the  language 
best  suited,  then  as  always,  to  the  rude,  childlike  minds 
to  whom  the  Gospel  discourses  were  addressed.  It  was 
the  language  in  which  profound  doctrines  were  most  likely 
to  be  preserved  for  future  ages,  distinct  from  the  dogmatic 
or  philosophical  turns  of  speech,  which,  whilst  aiming  at 
forms  which  still  endure  for  eternity,  are  often  the  most 
transitory  of  all,  often  far  more  transitory  than  the  hum- 
blest tale  or  the  simplest  figure  of  speech.  It  was  the 
sanction,  for  all  time,  of  the  use  of  fiction  and  poetry  as 
a  means  of  conveying  moi-al  and  religious  truth.  In  the 
Parables  of  the  Prodigal  Son  and  of  the  Rich  Man  and 
Lazarus,  are  wrapt  up  by  anticipation  the  drama  and 
romance  of  modern  Europe.  But  with  these  immense 
and  preponderating  advantages  of  the  parabolic  style  of 
instruction  was  combined  one  inevitable  danger  and  draw- 
back. Great,  exalted,  general  as  is  the  poetic  instinct  of 
mankind,  it  yet  is  not  universal  or  in  all  cases  supreme. 
There  is  a  prosaic  element  in  the  human  mind  which 
turns  into  matter  of  fact  even  the  highest  flights  of  gen- 
ius and  the  purest  aspirations  of  devotion.     And,  strange 


92  THE  REAL  PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

to  say,  this  prosaic  turn  is  sometimes  found  side  by  side 
with  the  development  of  the  paraboHc  tendency  of  which 
we  have  been  speaking  ;  sometimes  even  in  the  same 
mind.  Nothing  can  be  more  figurative  and  poetic  than 
Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim  ;  "  nothing  more  homely  and  pedan- 
tic than  his  "  Grace  Abounding."  This  union  of  the  two 
tendencies  is  nowhere  more  striking  than  in  the  East, 
and  in  the  first  age  of  Christianity.  It  appeared  in  the 
Gospel  narrative  itself.  Appropriate,  elevating,  unmis- 
takable as  were  our  Lord's  figures,  they  were  again  and 
again  brought  down  by  his  hearers  to  the  most  vulgar  and 
commonplace  meaning.  The  reply  of  the  Samaritan  wo- 
man at  the  well — the  comment  of  the  Apostles  on  the 
leaven  of  the  Pharisees  —  the  gross  materialism  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Capernaum  in  regard  to  the  very  expressions  which 
have  in  part  been  pressed  into  modern  Eucharistic  con- 
troversies, are  well-known  cases  in  point.  The  Talmud  is 
one  vast  system  of  turning  figures  into  facts.  The  pas- 
sionate exclamation  of  the  Psalmist,  "  Thou  hast  saved  me 
from  among  the  horns  of  the  unicorns,"  has  been  turned 
by  the  Rabbis  into  an  elaborate  chronicle  of  adventures. 
"  Imagination  and  defect  of  imagination  have  each  con- 
tributed to  the  result."  ^  The  whole  history  of  early  Mil- 
lenarianism  implies  the  same  incapacity  for  distinguish- 
ing between  poetry  and  prose.  The  strange  tradition  of 
our  Lord's  words  which  Irenceus  quoted  from  Papias,  and 
which  Papias  quoted  from  the  Apostles,  in  the  full  belief 
that  they  were  genuine,  is  a  sample  of  some  such  misun- 
derstood metaphor:  2  "  The  days  shall  come  when  each 
vine  will  grow  with  ten  thousand  boughs,  each  bough 
with  ten  thousand  branches,  each  branch  with  ten  thou- 
sand twigs,  each  twig  with  ten  thousand  bunches,  each 
bunch  with  ten  thousand  grapes,  each  grape  shall  yield 

1  Gould's  Legends  of  the  Old  Testament,  p.  vi. 

2  A  striking  explanation  is  given  of  this  in  Fhilochi-htus. 


Chap.  V.]  PREVALENCE   OF   MAGIC.  93 

twenty-five  measures  of  wine."  A  statement  like  this 
provokes  only  a  smile,  because  it  never  struck  root  in  the 
Church  ;  but  it  is  not  in  itself  more  extravagant  than  the 
Sacramental  theories  built  on  figures  not  less  evidently 
poetic. 

II.  A  second  cause  of  the  persistency  of  this  physical 
limitation  of  the  Sacramental  doctrine  lay  in  the  fascina- 
tion exercised  over  the  early  centuries  of  our  prevalence 
era  by  the  belief  in  amvilets  and  charms  which  °^'»'^e"=- 
the  Christians  inherited,  and  could  not  but  inherit,  from 
the  decaying  Roman  Empire.  In  a  striking  passage  in 
Cardinal  Newman's  "  Essay  on  Development,"  written 
with  the  view  of  identifying  the  modern  Church  of  Rome 
with  the  Church  of  the  early  ages,  he  shows,  with  all  the 
power  of  his  eloquence,  and  with  a  remarkable  display  of 
historical  ingenuity,  the  apparent  afiinity  between  the 
magical  rites  which  flooded  Roman  society  during  the 
three  first  centuries,  and  what  seemed  to  be  their  counter- 
parts in  the  contemporary  Christian  Church.  Doubtless 
much  of  this  similarity  was  accidental ;  much  also  was 
due  to  the  vague  terror  inspired  b}^  a  new  and  powerful 
religion.  But  much  also  was  well  grounded  in  the  like- 
ness which  the  aspect  of  early  Christianity  inevitably 
bore  to  the  influences  by  which  it  was  surrounded.  It 
was  not  mere  hostility,  nor  mere  ignorance,  which  saw  in 
the  exorcisms,  the  purifications,  the  mysteries  of  the 
Church  of  the  first  ages,  the  effects  of  the  same  vast  wave 
of  superstition  which  elsewhere  pi^oduced  the  witches  and 
soothsayers  of  Italy,  the  Mithraic  rites  of  Persia,  the 
strange  charms  and  invocations  of  the  Gnostics.  In  these 
likenesses  it  is  a-  strange  inversion,  instead  of  recogniz- 
ing the  influence  of  the  perishing  Empire  on  the  rising 
Church,  not  only  to  insist  on  binding  down  the  Church 
to  the  effete  superstitions  of  the  Empire,  but  to  regard 
those  superstitions  as  themselves  the  marks  of  a  divine 
Catholicity. 


94  THE  REAL  PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

Another  theologian,  with  a  far  truer  historical  insight, 
in  noticing  the  like  correspondence  of  the  anarchical  ten- 
dencies of  that  period  with  the  regenerating  elements  of 
Christianity,  has  taken  a  juster  view  of  their  relation  to 
each  other.  Whilst  fully  acknowledging  that  the  Chris- 
tian movement  to  the  external  observer  appeared  to  eni- 
Iwace  them  both,  he  has  endeavored  not  to  confound  the 
lower  human  accretions  with  Christianity  itself,  but  to 
distinguish  between  them.  "  Christianity,"  says  Dr. 
Arnold,  "  shared  the  common  lot  of  all  great  moral 
changes  ;  perfect  as  it  was  in  itself,  its  nominal  adhe- 
rents were  often  neither  wise  nor  good.  The  seemingly 
incongruous  evils  of  the  thoroughly  corrupt  society  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  superstition  and  scepticism,  ferocity 
and  sensual  profligacy,  often  sheltered  themselves  under 
the  name  of  Christianity ;  and  hence  the  heresies  of  the 
first  age  of  the  Christian  Church."  ^ 

The  "  sensual  profligacy  "  and  the  "  scepticism  "  no 
doubt  remained  amongst  "  the  heresies  ;  "  but  the  "  fe- 
rocity "  and  the  "  superstition  "  unfortunately  lingered 
in  the  Church  itself.  The  "  ferocity  "  developed  itself 
somewhat  later  in  the  hordes  of  monks  that  turned  the 
council-hall  at  Ephesus  into  a  den  of  thieves,  and  stained 
the  streets  of  Alexandria  with  the  blood  of  Hypatia. 
The  "  superstition  "  clove  to  the  sacramental  ordinances, 
and  too  often  converted  the  emblems  of  life  and  light 
into  signs  of  what  most  Christians  now  would  regard  as 
mere  remnants  of  sortilege  and  sorcery.  The  stories  of 
sacramental  bread  carried  about  as  a  protection  against 
sickness  and  storm  can  deserve  no  other  name  ;  and  it 
was  not  without  reason  that  in  later  times  the  sacred 
words  of  consecration,  which  often  degenerated  into  a 
mere  incantation,  became  the  equivalent  for  a  conjurer's 
trick.     And  to  this  was  added  a  peculiar  growth  of  the 

1  Fragment  on  the  Church,  pp.  85,  86. 


Chap.  V.]  PREVALENCE   OF   MAGIC.  95 

third  and  fourth  centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  wliich 
was  gradually  consolidated  amidst  the  lengthening  shad- 
ows of  the  falling  Empire,  —  the  sacerdotal  claims  of 
the  Christian  clergy.  In  themselves  these  clerical  pre- 
tensions had  no  necessary  connection  with  the  material 
view  of  the  Sacramental  rites.  The  administration  of 
Baptism  is  not  regarded  even  by  Roman  Catholics  as  an 
exclusive  privilege  of  the  clergy.  In  early  times,  in- 
deed, it  was  practically  confined  to  the  bishops,  but  this 
was  soon  broken  through,  and  in  later  ages  it  has  in  the 
Roman  Church  been  viewed  as  the  right,  and  even  in 
some  cases  as  the  duty,  of  the  humblest  layman  or  lay- 
woman.  But  the  celebration  of  the  Eucharist,  although 
there  is  nothing  in  the  terms  of  its  original  institution  to 
distinguish  it  in  this  respect  from  the  other  sacrament, 
has  yet  been  regarded  as  a  peculiar  function  of  the 
priesthood.  In  the  second  century,  like  that  other  sacra- 
ment, its  administration  depended  on  the  permission  of 
the  bishops,  yet  when  emancipated  from  their  control, 
unlike  Baptism,  it  did  not  descend  beyond  the  order  of 
presbyters,  and  has  ever  since  been  bound  up  with  their 
dignity  and  power.  Even  here  there  can  be  found  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  those  who  maintain  that 
there  is  no  essential  and  necessary  connection  between 
their  office  and  the  validity  of  the  Sacrament.  But  this 
has  not  been  the  general  view  ;  and  it  is  impossible  not 
to  suppose  that  the  belief  in  the  preternatural  powers  of 
the  priesthood,  and  the  belief  in  the  material  efficacy 
of  the  sacramental  elements,  have  acted  and  reacted  upon 
each  other,  culminating  in  the  extraordinary  hyperbole 
which  regards  the  priest  as  the  maker  of  his  Creator, 
and  varying  with  the  importance  which  has  been  as- 
cribed to  the  second  order  of  the  Christian  clergy,  and 
through  them  to  the  hierarchy  generally. 

III.  These   two    tendencies  —  the  early    tendency    to 


96  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

mistake  parable  for  prose,  and  the  early  superstitious  re- 
gard for  external  objects  —  are  sufficient  to  account  for 
The  spirit-  ^^^®  lower  forms  of  the  irrational  theories  re- 
uai  Tiew.  specting  the  Sacrament  of  the  Eucharist.  But 
there  is  a  third  cause  of  a  nobler  kind  which  will  lead  us 
gradually  and  naturally  to  the  consideration  of  the  other 
side  of  the  question.  It  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of 
this  Sacrament  that  partly  through  its  long  history, 
partly  from  the  original  grandeur  of  its  first  conception, 
it  suggests  a  great  variety  of  thoughts  which  cling  to  it 
with  such  tenacity  as  almost  to  become  part  of  itself. 
To  disentangle  these  from  the  actual  forms  which  they 
encompass  —  to  draw  precisely  the  limits  where  the  out- 
ward ends  and  the  inward  begins,  where  the  transitory 
melts  into  the  eternal  and  the  earthly  into  the  heavenly 
—  is  beyond  the  power  of  many,  beside  the  wish  of 
most.  An  example  may  be  taken  from  another  great 
ordinance  which  belongs  to  the  world  no  less  than  to  the 
Church,  and  which  by  more  than  half  Christendom  is 
regarded  as  a  sacrament  —  ISIarriage.  How  difficult  it 
would  be  to  analyze  the  ordinary  mode  of  feeling  re- 
garding the  ceremony  which  unites  two  human  beings  in 
the  most  sacred  relations  of  life  ;  how  many  trains  of  as- 
sociation from  Jewish  patriarchal  traditions,  from  the 
usages  of  Imperial  Rome,  from  the  metaphors  of  Apos- 
tolic teaching,  from  the  purity  of  Teutonic  and  of  Eng- 
lish homes,  have  gone  to  make  up  the  joint  sanctity  of 
that  solemn  moment,  in  which  the  reality  and  the  form 
are  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man  blended  in  indissoluble 
union.  Even  if  there  are  mingled  with  it  customs  which 
liiid  once  a  baser  significance  ;  yet  still  even  these  are 
invested  by  the  feeling  of  the  moment  with  a  meaning 
above  themselves,  which  eiivelops  the  whole  ceremonial 
with  an  atmosphere  of  grandeur  that  no  inferior  associa- 
tions can  dispel  or  degrade.     Something  analagous  is  the 


Chap.  V.]  THE   SPIRITUAL   VIEW.  97 

mixture  of  ideas  wliicli  has  sprung  up  round  the  Eucha- 
rist. It  has,  by  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  two  sides  : 
its  visible  material  aspect,  of  a  ceremony,  of  a  test,  of 
a  mystic  chain  by  which  the  priest  brings  the  Creator 
down  to  earth,  and  attaches  his  followers  to  himself  and 
his  order ;  and  its  noble  spiritual  aspect  of  a  sacred  mem- 
ory, of  a  joyous  thanksgiving,  of  a  solemn  self-dedication, 
of  an  upward  aspiration  towards  the  Divine  and  the  Un- 
seen. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  legends  which  have 
represented  in  an  outward  form  the  spiritual  presence  of 
the  Founder  in  the  world  at  large.  We  have  also  spoken 
of  those  which  have  represented  the  same  idea  in  con- 
nection with  the  sufferers  or  the  heroes  of  humanity. 
There  are  also  legends  on  which  we  may  for  a  moment 
dwell  as  representing  in  a  vivid  form  both  the  baser  and 
the  loftier  view  of  the  same  idea  in  the  Eucharist.  The 
lowest  and  most  material  conception  of  this  Presence  is 
brought  before  us  in  the  legend  of  the  miracle  of  Bol- 
sena,  immortalized  by  the  fresco  of  Raphael,  in  wdiich 
the  incredulous  priest  was  persuaded  by  the  falling  of 
drops  of  blood  from  the  consecrated  wafer  at  the  altar  of 
that  ancient  Etruscan  city.  Such  stories  of  bleeding 
wafers  were  not  unfrequent  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  it 
is  not  impossible  that  they  originated  in  the  curious  nat- 
ural phenomenon,  which  was  described  in  connection 
with  the  appearance  of  the  cholera  in  Berlin  —  the  dis- 
coloration produced  by  the  appearance  of  certain  small 
scarlet  insects  which  left  on  the  bread  which  they 
touched  the  appearance  of  drops  of  blood.  Some  such 
appearance,  real  or  supposed,  suggested,  probably,  the 
material  transformation  of  the  elements  into  the  flesh 
and  blood  of  the  outward  frame  of  the  Founder.  This 
is  the  foundation  of  the  great  festival  of  Corpus  Christi, 
which  from    the   thirteenth  century  has   in   the   Latin 


98  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

Church  commeniorated  the  miracle  of  Bolsena,  and  with 
it  the  doctrine  suj^posed  to  be  indicated  therein.  Another 
class  of  legend  rises  somewhat  higher.  It  is  that  of  a  ra- 
diant child  appearing  on  the  altar,  such  as  is  described  in 
the  lives  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  engraved  on  the 
screen  which  incloses  his  shrine  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia,  with  his  famous  Countess  Go- 
diva,  was  believed  to  have  been  present  with  the  King, 
and  to  have  seen  it  also.  This  apparition,  "  pure  and 
bright  as  a  spirit,"  is  evidently  something  more  refined 
than  the  identification  of  the  wafer  and  wine  with  the 
mere  flesh  and  blood  of  the  human  body  of  a  full-grown 
man,  and,  if  both  stories  were  taken  literally,  each  would 
be  inconsistent  with  the  other.  A  third  incident  of  the 
kind  leads  us  higher  yet,  and  is  the  more  remarkable 
from  its  indicating  the  doctrine  of  a  Eucharistic  Presence 
in  a  Church  which  most  Enfrlish  High  Churchmen  de- 
spise  as  altogether  outside  the  pale  of  Sacramental 
graces.  It  has  been  told  in  various  places ;  amongst 
others,  in  the  twenty-first  edition  ^  of  the  interesting 
reminiscences  of  Scottish  Character,  by  the  venerable 
Dean  Ramsay,  how  a  half-witted  boy  in  Forfarshire  after 
long  entreaties  persuaded  the  minister  to  give  him  what 
he  called  his  Father's  bread,  and  returned  home,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Oh,  I  have  seen  the  pretty  man  !  "  and  died  that 
night  in  excess  of  rapture.  No  savor  or  tradition  of 
Transubstantiation  had  invaded  the  brain  of  this  poor 
child.  No  Presbyterian  would  admit  the  external  real- 
ity of  the  vision.  No  Catholic  or  High  Episcopalian 
would  acknowledge  the  reality  of  that  Presbyterian  Sac- 
rament. But,  nevertheless,  the  purely  Protestant  idea 
of  a  spiritual  communion  had  such  an  effect  as  to  pro- 
duce an  impression  analogous,  however  superior,  to  the 
visions  of  the  Priest  of  Bolsena  or  the  Saxon  King.  No 
serious  confusion   can  arise  so  long  as  we  hold  to  the 

1  Vol.  i.  239. 


Chap.  V.]  THE   SPIRITUAL   VIEW.  99 

obvious  truth  that  outward  appearances  can  never  be 
more  than  signs  of  spiritual  and  moral  excellence ;  and 
that  even  were  the  Saviour  Himself  present  in  visible 
form  before  us,  that  visible  presence  would  be  useless  to 
us,  except  as  a  token  of  the  Divine  Spirit  within,  and 
would  have  no  effect  on  the  human  soul  unless  the  soul 
consciously  received  a  moral  impulse  from  it. 

Such  are  the  various  elements  which  have  gone  to 
make  up  the  sentiment  of  Christendom  on  a  subject  in 
itself  so  simple,  but  complicated  by  the  confluence  of  the 
heterogeneous  streams  of  irrelevant  argument,  misapplied 
metaj)hor,  and  genuine  devotion.  How  its  more  material 
aspect  deepened  as  time  rolled  on,  we  have  already  indi- 
cated. The  long  mediaeval  controversy  was  at  last  closed 
by  the  definition  of  Transubstantiation  in  the  fourth 
Council  of  Lateran,  and  this  was  followed  by  the  stories 
already  cited  of  the  miracle  of  Bolsena,  and  other  like  in- 
cidents, which  finally  produced  what  may  be  called  the 
popular  belief  of  the  Roman  Church,  that  the  bread  and 
"wine  are,  after  consecration,  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  body  and  blood  that  was  crucified  on  Calvary. 

But  it  is  interesting,  and  for  our  present  purpose  in- 
structive, to  observe  how  behind  this  popular  belief,  and 
even  in  some  of  the  forms  which  most  directly  arose  out 
of  it,  there  was  yet  a  constant  turning  to  the  higher  and 
more  spiritual  view.  Not  only  had  Berengar  and  Abe- 
lard  protested  against  the  grosser  conceptions,  not  only 
had  the  mighty  Hildebrand  vacillated  in  his  orthodoxy, 
but  the  very  statement  of  "  Transubstantiation,"  properly 
understood,  contained  a  safety-valve,  through  which  the 
more  earthly  and  dogmatic  expressions  of  the  doctrine 
evaporate  and  melt  into  something  not  very  unlike  the 
purest  Protestantism.  The  word  is  based,  as  its  compo- 
nent parts  sufficiently  indicate,  on  the  scholastic  distinc- 
tion between  "  Substance  "  and  "  Accidents,"  a  distinc- 


100  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  .  [Chap.  V. 

tion  which  has  long  since  vanished  out  of  eveiy  sound 
system  either  of  physics  or  metaphysics,^  but  which  at 
the  time  must  have  been  like  a  Deus  ex  machind  to  re- 
lieve the  diflBculties  of  theologians  struggling  to  maintain 
their  conscience  and  sense  of  truth  against  the  prevailing 
superstitions  of  the  age.  Every  external  object  was  then 
believed  to  consist  of  two  parts  —  the  accidents,  which 
represented  the  solid  visible  framework,  alone  cognizable 
by  the  senses,  and  the  substance,  which  was  the  inward 
essence  or  Platonic  idea,  invisible  to  mortal  eye,  incom- 
municable to  mortal  touch.  The  popular  notion  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  doctrine  is,  no  doubt,  that  the  change 
believed  to  be  effected  in  the  Eucharist  is  not  of  "  the 
substance,"  but  of  "  the  accidents."  This  would  seem 
(on  the  whole)  the  view  of  Aquinas,  who  maintains,  not, 
indeed,  that  the  accidents  of  the  bread  and  wine  are 
changed,  but  that  the  substance  is  changed,  not  merel}'' 
into  the  substance,  but  into  the  accidents  of  the  body  and 
blood.2  This  is  clear  not  only  from  the  legends  of  the 
bleeding  wafers  and  the  like,  but  from  the  common  lan- 
guage used  as  to  the  portentous  miracle  by  which  the 
visible  earthly  elements  are  supposed  to  be  transformed 
into  something  invisible  and  celestial.  But  the  true 
scholastic  doctrine  is  wholly  inconsistent  with  any  such 
supposition.  The  "  substance "  spoken  of  is  not  the 
material  substance,  but  the  impalpable  idea.  The  mira- 
cle, if  it  can  be  so  called  in  any  sense  of  that  much-vexed 
word,  consists  in  the  transformation  of  one  invisible  ob- 
ject into  another  invisible  object.     The  senses  have  no 

1  The  connection  of  these  materialist  views  of  the  Sacrament  with  the  scho- 
lastic distinction  between  "substance"  and  "accidents"  has  been  well  pointed 
out  by  two  distinguished  scholars,  who,  whenever  they  apply  themselves  to  theo- 
logical subjects,  speak  with  a  luciditj-  and  an  authority  which  need  no  addition, 
—  Bisliop  Thirhvall  in  his  Charge  of  1854  (Eemains,  i.  238-40,  249-51),  and 
Dean  Liddell  in  iiis  sermon  entitled  "  Tiiere  am  I  in  tlie  midst." 

2  Lib.  iv.  Sent.  Dist.  viii.  qii.  2:  quoted  in  Bisliop  Thirlwall's  Charge  of  1854. 
{Remains,  i.  250. ) 


Chap.  V.]  THE   SPIRITUAL   VIEW.  101 

part  or  lot  in  the  transaction,  on  one  side  or  the  other. 
Even  the  "  substance  "  ^  into  which  the  ideal  essence  of 
the  bread  and  wine  is  transformed  is  not  the  gross  cor- 
poreal matter  of  the  bones  and  sinews  and  fluid  of  the 
human  frame,  but  the  ideal  essence  of  that  frame.  It  is, 
probably,  not  without  design  that  Cardinal  Newman,  in 
speaking  of  the  word  "  substance,"  lays  down  so  anx- 
iously and  precisely  that  "  the  greatest  philosophers 
know  nothing  at  all  about  it."  The  doctrine,  thus  con- 
ceived and  thus  stated  in  one  of  the  decrees  of  Trent,  is, 
as  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's  ^  well  expresses  it,  the  asser- 
tion that  "  one  metaphysical  entity  is  substituted  for  an- 
other, equally  beyond  the  grasp  of  the  human  mind,  and 
equally  incapable  of  any  predicate  by  which  it  may  be- 
come the  subject  of  an  intelligible  proposition."  It  is 
evident  that  under  cover  of  a  word  which  either  means 
nothing  or  something  which  no  one  can  understand,  the 
whole  idealistic  philosophy,  the  whole  rationalistic  the- 
ology, the  whole  Biblical  and  spiritual  conceptions  of  the 
Eucharist  might  steal  in. 

It  is  difficult,  but  it  is  instructive,  to  track  out  the 
course  of  this  Protean  logomachy.  The  confusion  per- 
vades not  only  the  words  of  the  doctrine,  but  the  forms 
which  have  gathered  round  it.  Whilst  some  of  these 
forms  have  intensified  the  gross  popular  belief,  and  are 
only  explicable  on  the  supposition  of  its  truth, — such  as 
the  minute  precautions  concerning  the  mode  of  disposing 
of  the  sacred  elements,  or  of  guarding  them  against  the 
trivial  incidents  of  every-day  occurrence,  —  on  tlte  other 
hand,  some  of  them  are  only  defensible  on  the  hypothesis 

1  The  ambiguity  which  in  the  Koman  statement  attaches  to  the  word  "  sub- 
stance," in  the  Anglican  statement  attaches  no  less  to  the  word  "real."  " Noth- 
ing in  this  question  can  depend  on  the  expression  Real  Presence ;  everything  on 
the  sense  which  is  attached  to  it."  —  Bishop  Thirl  wall's  Charge,  1854.  {Be- 
mains,  i.  240.) 

2  Charge,  1854.    {Remains,  i.  250.) 


102  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

of  the  more  spiritual  view  to  which  we  have  just  ad- 
verted. This  is  even  more  apparent  in  the  mediaeval 
and  Western  than  in  the  Patristic  and  Oriental  Church. 
We  have  seen  that  in  the  earlier  ages  it  was  the  cus- 
tom, as  it  still  is  in  Eastern  worship,  to  give  the  Com- 
munion to  infants.  This  custom  since  the  thirteenth 
century  has  in  the  Latin  Church  been  entirely  proscribed. 
Partly,  no  doubt,  this  may  have  arisen  from  the  fear  — 
increasing  with  the  increase  of  the  superstitious  venera- 
tion for  the  actual  elements  —  lest  the  wine,  or  as  it  was 
deemed  the  sacred  blood,  should  be  spilt  in  the  process ; 
but  partly  also  it  arose  from  the  repugnance  which  the 
more  restless,  rational,  and  reforming  West  felt  against 
an  infant's  unconscious  participation  in  a  rite  which,  ac- 
cording to  any  reasonable  explanation  of  its  import,  could 
not  be  considered  as  useful  to  any  except  conscious  and 
intelligent  agents.  In  many  of  its  aspects,  no  doubt, 
the  same  might  be  said  of  Baptism.  But  there  it  was  at 
least  possible  to  regard  the  rite  in  relation  to  children  as 
equivalent  to  an  enrolment  in  a  new  society  —  a  dedica- 
tion to  a  merciful  Saviour  —  a  hope  that  they  would  lead 
the  rest  of  their  lives  according  to  this  beginning.  Not 
so  the  Eucharist.  The  Eucharist  is  either  a  purely  moral 
act,  or  else  it  is  entirely  mechanical.  If  viewed  as  a 
charm,  as  a  medicine,  it  would  be  equally  applicable  to 
conscious  or  unconscious  persons,  to  children  or  to  full- 
grown  men.  But  if  viewed  as  an  act  of  the  will,  Infant 
Communion  became  an  obvious  incongruity,  and  accord- 
ingly, in  spite  of  the  long  and  venei'able  traditions  which 
sustained  the  usage,  it  was  deliberately  abandoned  by 
the  Latin  Church  ;  and  we  may  be  sure  that  the  enlight- 
ened sense  of  Christian  Europe  will  forever  prevent  its 
rehabilitation.  The  rejection  of  Infant  Communion  is 
intelligible  on  the  principle  that  the  efficacy  of  the  Eu- 
charist is  a  moral  influence  —  it  is  totally  indefensible  on 


Chap.  V.]  THE    SPIRITUAL    VIEW.  103 

the  principle  wbetlier  of  Roman  or  Anglican  divines, 
who  maintain  its  efl&cacy,  irrespectively  of  any  spiritual 
thought  or  reflection  in  the  recipient.  Another  change 
of  the  same  kind  in  Western  Christendom  is  equall}^  open 
to  this  construction.  One  of  the  most  common  charges 
of  Protestants  against  the  Church  of  Rome  is  its  with- 
holding of  the  cup  from  the  laity.  The  expression  is  not 
quite  accurate.  The  cup  is  not  absolutely  withheld  from 
laymen,  inasmuch  as  it  was  the  privilege  of  the  Kings  of 
France,  and  also  is  still  given  in  cases  of  illness ;  and  its 
retention  is  not  from  the  laity  as  such,  but  from  all, 
whether  priests  or  laymen,  that  are  not  actually  officiat- 
ing. This,  properly  understood,  places  the  custom  on 
what  is  no  doubt  its  true  basis.  It  began  probably,  like 
the  denial  of  the  Communion  to  infants,  from  an  appre- 
hension lest  the  chalice  should  be  spilt  in  going  to  and 
fro,  or  lest  the  sacred  liquid  should  adhere  to  the  beards 
or  moustaches  of  the  bristling  warriors  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  But  it  was  justified  on  a  ground  which  is  fatal  to 
the  localization  of  the  Divine  Presence  in  the  earthly 
elements.  It  was  maintained  that  the  communicant  re- 
ceived the  benefits  of  the  sacrament  as  completely  if  he 
partook  of  one  of  the  two  species  as  if  he  partook  of  both. 
This  was  at  once  to  assert  that  the  efficacy  of  the  sacra- 
ment did  not  depend  on  the  material  elements.  It  was 
the  same  revolution  with  respect  to  the  Eucharist  that 
the  almost  contemporary  substitution  of  sprinkling  for 
immersion  was  in  Baptism.  Such  a  change  in  the  mat- 
ter of  either  sacrament  can  only  be  justified  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  the  matter  is  but  of  small  importance  —  that 
the  main  stress  must  be  on  the  spirit.  And  when  to 
this  alteration  of  form  was  yet  further  added,  in  explana- 
tion of  it,  a  distinct  scholastic  theory  that  each  of  the 
two  species  contained  the  substance  of  both,  the  doctrine 
of  the  supreme  indifference  of  form  was  consolidated,  so 


104  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

far  as  the  metapliysical  subtleties  and  barbarous  philos- 
ophy of  that  age  would  allow,  into  a  separate  dogma. 

If  the  fine  lines  of  Thomas  Aquinas  in  his  famous 
hymn,  "  Lauda  Sion  Salvatorem,"  have  any  sense  at  all, 
they  mean  that  the  body  of  Christ  is  not  contained  in 
the  bread,  nor  the  blood  in  the  wine,  but  that  something 
different  from  each  is  contained  in  both  ;  and  what  that 
something  is  must  either  be  a  purely  spiritual  Presence 
in  the  hearts  of  the  faithful  or  else  the  presence  of  two 
physical  bodies  existing  on  every  altar  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, which  is  maintained  by  no  one. 

When  the  Bohemian  Utraquists  fought  with  desperate 
energy  to  recover  the  use  of  the  cup,  they  were  in  one 
sense  doubtless  figliting  the  cause  of  the  laity  against  the 
clergy,  of  old  Catholic  latitude  against  modern  Roman 
restrictions.  But  with  that  obliquity  of  purpose  which 
sometimes  characterizes  the  fiercest  ecclesiastical  strug- 
gles, the  Roman  Church,  on  the  other  hand,  was  fight- 
ing the  battle  of  an  enlarged  and  liberal  view  of  the 
Sacraments  against  a  fanatical  insistance  on  the  necessity 
of  a  detailed  conformity  to  ancient  usage. 

Of  a  piece  with  these  indications  of  a  more  reason- 
able view  is  the  constant  under-song  of  better  spirits 
from  the  earliest  times,  which  maintains  with  regard  to 
both  Sacraments,  not  only  that,  in  extreme  cases,  they 
may  be  dispensed  with,  but  that  their  essence  is  to  be 
had  without  the  form  at  all.  The  bold  doctrine  of  Wall 
—  the  great  Anglican  authority  of  Infant  Baptism  — 
that  Quakers  may  be  regarded  as  baptized,  because  they 
have  the  substance  of  that  of  which  baptism  is  the  sign, 
is  justified  by  the  maxim  of  the  early  Church  that  the 
martyrdom  of  the  unbaptized  is  itself  a  baptism.  And 
in  like  manner,  the  most  Protestant  of  all  the  statements 
on  this  subject  in  the  English  Prayer  Book  is  itself  taken 
from  an  earlier  rubric  to  the  same  effect  in  the  mediaeval 


Chap.  V.]  THE  SPIRITUAL   VIEW.  105 

Church  :  "  If  a  man  ....  by  any  just  impediment  do 
not  receive  the  Sacrament  of  Christ's  body  and  blood, 
the  Church  shall  instruct  him  that "  [if  he  fulfil  the 
moral  conditions  of  Communion],  "Ag  doth  eat  mid  drink 
the  Body  and  Blood  of  our  Saviour  Christ  to  his  soul's 
health,  although  he  do  not  receive  the  Sacrameyit  with  his 
mouthy  This  principle  is  asserted  in  the  Sarum  Manual, 
which  less  distinctly,  but  not  less  positively,  allowed  of 
the  possibility  of  spiritual  communion  when  actual  re- 
ception of  the  elements  was  impossible. ^ 

Such  a  concession  is  in  fact  the  concession  of  the  whole 
principle.  In  the  more  stringent  view,  the  outward  re- 
ception of  the  two  Sacraments  was  regarded  as  so  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  salvation,  that  not  even  the  inno- 
cence of  the  new-born  babe  nor  the  blameless  life  of 
Marcus  Aurelius  were  allowed  to  plead  against  their  lack 
of  the  outward  form  of  one  or  the  other.  But  the  mo- 
ment that  the  door  is  opened  for  the  moral  consideration 
of  what  is  due  to  mercy  and  humanity,  the  whole  fabric 
of  the  strict  Sacramental  system  vanishes,  and  reason, 
justice,  and  charity  step  in  to  take  their  rightful  places. 

IV.  We  have  thus  far  endeavored  to  show  how  in  the 
vitals  of  the  most  mechanical  theory  of  the  Sacraments 
there  was  wrapt  up  a  protest  in  favor  of  the  most  spirit- 
ual view.  Let  us  for  a  moment  take  the  reverse  side  of 
the  picture,  and  show  how,  in  the  heart  of  the  early 
Protestant  Church,  there  has  always  been  wrapt  up  a 
lurking  tenderness  for  the  purely  outward  and  material 
view. 

When  the  shock  of  the  Reformation  came,  next  after 
the  Pope's  Supremacy  and  the  doctrine  of  Justification 
by  Faith  —  and  in  a  certain  sense  more  fiercely  even 
than  either  of  these,  because  it  concerned  a  tangible  and 
visible  object — the  battle  of  the  Churches  was  fought 
over  the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar. 

1  Blunt's  Annotated  Prayer  Booh,  p.  291. 


106  THE   REAL  PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

Each  of  the  Reformers  on  the  Continent  made  some 
formidable  inroad  into  the  usages  or  the  theories  which 
the  Roman  Church  had  built  up  on  the  primitive  ordi- 
nance. Yet  they  all  retained  something  of  the  old  scho- 
lastic theory,  or  the  old  material  sentiment  on  the  exter- 
nal surroundings  of  the  grand  spiritual  conception  of  the 
Sacrament.  The  scholastic  confusion  between  substance 
and  accident  continued  in  full  force.    Luther,  in 

Luther.  i         i      i  i  i  •    •         i        e 

most  points  the  boldest,  the  most  spiritual  ot 
all,  on  this  point  was  the  most  hesitating  and  the  most 
superstitious.  Under  the  new  name  of  "  Consubstantia- 
tion,"  the  ancient  dogma  of  "  Transubstantiation  "  re- 
ceived a  fresh  lease  of  life.  The  unchanged  form  of  the 
Lutheran  altar,  with  crucifix,  candles,  and  wafer,  testi- 
fied to  the  comparatively  unchanged  doctrine  of  the  Lu- 
theran sacrament.  Melanchthon,  Bucer,  Calvin,  all  trem- 
bled on  the  same  inclined  slope  ;  all  labored  to  retain 
some  mixture  of  the  physical  with  the  purer  idea  of  the 
metaphysical,  moral  efficacy  of  the  Eucharistic  rite.  One 
only,  the  Reformer  of  Zurich,  "  the  clear-headed  and  in- 
trepid Zwingli,"Mn  treating  of  this  subject,  an- 
ticipated the  necessary  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter.  But  his  doctrine  prevailed  in  England  and  on 
the  Continent  wherever  his  influence  extended,  and  in 
the  Roman  Church  has  not  been  altogether  inoperative. 
In  language,  perhaps  too  austerely  exact,  but  transpar- 
ently clear,  he  recognized  the  full  Biblical  truth,  that 
the  operations  of  the  Divine  Spirit  on  the  soul  can  only 
be  through  moral  means  ;  and  that  the  moral  influence 
of  the  Sacrament  is  chiefly  or  solely  through  the  po- 
tency of  its  unique  commemoration  of  the  most  touch- 
ing and  transcendent  event  in  history.  This  is  the 
view,  sometimes  in  contempt  called  Zwinglian,  which  in 

1  See  the  excellent  account  of  Zwingli,  Bampton  Lectures  on  the  Communion 
of  Saints,  by  the  Rev.  H.  B.  Wilson,  p.  135. 


Chap.  V.]  THE   ENGLISH   CHURCH,  107 

substance  became  the  doctrine  of  all  the  "  Reformed 
Churches  "  ^  properly  so  called,  and  in  a  more  or  less  de- 
gree of  all  Protestant  Churches.  It  is  well  known  how 
vehemently  Luther  struggled  against  it.  In  the  princely 
hall  of  the  old  castle  which  crowns  the  romantic  town 
of  Marburg  took  place  the  stormy  discussion  in  which 
Luther  and  Zwingli,  in  the  presence  of  the  Landgrave 
of  Hesse,  for  two  long  days  met  face  to  face,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  convincing  one  another,  with  the  hope,  not 
equally  vain,  of  at  least  parting  in  friendship.  Every- 
thing which  could  be  said  on  behalf  of  the  dogmatic, 
coarse,  literal  interpretation  of  the  institution  was  urged 
with  the  utmost  vigor  of  word  and  gesture  by  the  stub- 
born Saxon.  Everything  which  could  be  said  on  behalf 
of  the  rational,  refined,  spiritual  construction  was  urged 
with  a  union  of  the  utmost  acuteness  and  gentleness  by 
the  sober-minded  Swiss.  Never  before  or  since  have  the 
two  views  been  brought  into  such  close  collision. 

V.  We  now  turn  to  the  relation  of  the  two  conflicting 
tendencies  in  England.  It  will  not  be  surpris-  English 
ing  to  any  one  who  has  followed  the  essentially  ^^'*'^'='^- 
mixed  aspect  of  the  English  character  and  of  English 
institutions,  the  gradual  development  of  our  religious, 
side  by  side  with  the  equally  gradual  development  of 
our  political,  ordinances  and  ideas  —  that  the  conflict  of 
thought,  visible  as  we  have  seen  even  in  the  compact  fab- 
ric both  of  the  Roman  and  the  Presbyterian  Churches, 
should  have  left  yet  deeper  traces  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. During  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  this  hesitation 
was  almost  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  laborious  ef- 
forts by  which  King  and  people  rose  out  of  their  own 
natural  prepossessions  into  a  higher  region  :  — 

Now  half  appeared 
The  tawnj'  lion,  pawing  to  get  free 
His  hinder  parts,  then  springs  as  broke  from  bonds, 
And  rampant  shakes  his  brinded  mane. 

1  /.  e.,  the  Swiss,  South  German,  French,  and  English  Churches. 


108  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

No  doubt  the  ancient  doctrine  maintained  its  place  dur- 
ing those  eventful  years.  But  Tyndale  had  not  spoken 
and  written  in  vain  ;  and  already  by  the  Royal  theolo- 
gian himself  was  issued  one  of  those  statesmanlike  docu- 
ments in  which  the  true  doctrine  of  the  relation  of  form 
to  spirit  is  set  fortli  with  a  clearness  of  exposition  and 
of  thought  that  has  never  been  surpassed.^  The  con- 
tradictions and  vacillations  in  the  growth  of  Cranmer's 
opinions  on  this  point  are  well  known.  Nothing  can  be 
more  natural  —  nothing,  we  may  add,  more  creditable  to 
his  honesty  and  discrimination  —  than  that  he  should 
have  felt  his  way  gradually  and  carefully  through  the 
labyrinth  from  which  he  had  been  slowly  emerging.  In 
Edward  VI.'s  reign,  the  influence  of  the  Reformer  of 
Zurich  at  last  made  itself  felt  in  every  corner  of  the  ec- 
clesiastical movement  of  England ;  ^  "  De  coenS  omnes 
Angli  recte  sentiunt,"  writes  Hooper  to  his  Swiss  friends 
in  1549 ;  "  Satisfecit  piis  Eduardi  reformatio,"  writes 
Bullinger.  At  length  Cranmer's  agreement  with  the 
Helvetic  Confession  of  1536  was  complete.  "  Cantei-- 
bury,"  writes  a  friend  to  Bullinger  in  1548,  "  contrary 
to  expectation,  maintained  your  opinion.  It  is  all  over 
with  the  Lutherans."  Ridley's  last  sentiments,  though 
guardedly  expressed,  were  at  the  core  the  same  as  Cran- 
mer's. It  was  its  persistent  adhesion  to  the  Swiss  doc- 
trine on  the  whole  which  made  the  Anglican  Church,  in 
spite  of  its  episcopal  government  and  liturgical  worship, 
to  be  classed  not  amongst  the  Lutheran  but  amongst  the 
Reformed  Churches. 

Yet  still  the  mediaBval,  or,  if  we  will,  the  Lutheran 
element  remained  too  strongly  fixed  to  be  altogether  dis- 
lodged. At  the  distance  of  two  centuries,  Swift  could 
regard  his  own  Church  as  represented  by  Martin  rather 

1  Froude's  History,  iii.  367. 

2  See  Cardwell's  Two  Liturgies,  Pref.  pp.  20-28. 


Chap.  V.]  THE  ENGLISH   CHURCH.  109 

than  by  Jack.  Lutheranisra  was,  in  fact,  the  exact  shade 
which  colored  the  mind  of  Elizabeth,  and  of  the  divines 
who  held  to  her.  Her  altar  was  precisely  the  Lutheran 
altar  ;  her  opinions  were  represented  in  almost  a  continu- 
ous line  by  one  divine  after  another  down  to  our  own 
time.  But  they  were  always  kept  in  check  by  the  strong 
Zwinglian  atmosphere  which  pervaded  the  original  the- 
ology of  the  English  Church,  and  which  has  been  its  pre- 
vailing hue  ever  since.  Into  this  more  reasonable  the- 
ology almost  every  expression  that  has  been  since  used 
(till  quite  our  modern  times)  might  be  resolved.  But 
in  the  earlier  years  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  not  only  the 
Queen  herself,  but  a  very  large  portion  of  the  English 
clergy,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  Roman  doctrine, 
still  held  opinions  scarcely  distinguishable  from  it.  Thus 
it  came  to  pass  that,  in  the  spirit  of  compromise  and  con- 
ciliation which  pervaded  all  their  work,  the  framers  of 
the  formularies,  though  determined  to  keep  the  Zwinglian 
doctrine  intact,  yet  often  so  expressed  it  as  to  make  it 
look  as  much  like  Lutheranism  as  possible.  Elizabeth 
herself,  when  cross-questioned  in  her  sister's  time,  evaded 
the  doctrine  rather  than  stated  it  distinctly.  There  are 
still  to  be  seen  rudely  carved  on  a  stone  under  the  pulpit 
of  the  Church  of  Walton  on  Thames  the  lines  in  which 
she  gave  the  answer  that  to  many  a  devout  spirit  in  the 
English  Church  has  seemed  a  sufficient  reply  to  all  ques- 
tionings on  the  subject :  — 

Christ  was  the  Word  and  spake  it, 
He  took  the  bread  and  brake  it; 
And  what  the  Word  doth  make  it 
That  I  believe  and  take  it. 

The  Articles  as  finally  drawn  up  in  her  reign  exhibit  this 
same  reluctance  to  exclude  positively  one  or  other  of  the 
two  views.  The  28th  Article,  as  originally  written  in 
Edward  VI.'s  time,  had  expressed  the  exact  Helvetic  doc- 


110  THE   REAL   PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

trine.  A  sentence  was  added  in  which,  amidst  a  crowd 
of  Zwinglian  exj^ressions,  one  word  —  "  given  "  —  was 
inserted  w^iich,  though  not  necessarilj'^  Lutheran  or 
Roman,  certainly  lent  itself  to  that  meaning.  The  29th 
Article,  on  "  the  wicked  which  eat  not  the  Body  of 
Christ  in  the  use  of  the  Lord's  Supper,"  which  was 
added  in  Elizabeth's  time,  was  obviously  meant  to  con- 
demn the  doctrine  that  there  is  any  reception  possible 
but  a  moral  reception.  But  —  not  to  speak  of  the 
slight  wavering,  at  its  close,  of  the  positiveness  of  its 
opening  —  this  very  Article,  though  authorized  by  tlie 
canons  of  1603,  and  by  implication  in  the  Caroline  Act 
of  Uniformity  in  1662,  does  not  occur  in  the  edition  of 
the  Articles  (which  are  here  only  38  in  number)  au- 
thorized by  the  13th  of  Elizabeth.  That  is  to  say,  this 
most  Protestant  of  all  the  Articles  is  confirmed  by  what 
many  regard  as  the  authority  of  the  Church  in  Convoca- 
tion, and  by  the  legislature  of  Charles  XL's  time,  but  it 
was  not  confirmed  by  the  Act  which  first  imposed  the 
Articles,  and  which  had  for  its  object  the  admission  of 
Presbyterian  orders. 

The  Catechism,  which  originally  contained  no  exposi- 
tion of  the  sacraments  at  all,  in  the  time  of  James  I.  re- 
ceived a  supplement,  in  which  for  one  moment  the  highly 
rhetorical  language  of  the  Fathers  and  Schoolmen  is 
strongly  pressed :  "  The  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ  are 
verily  and  indeed  taken  and  received  in  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per." But  then  the  qualifying  clause  comes  in,  "  by  the 
faithful ;  "  and  these  very  woi'ds  are  further  restricted  as 
describing,  not  the  bread  and  wine,  but  tlie  "  thing  signi- 
fied thereby."  The  strong  denial  of  "  the  Real  and  bod- 
ily, the  Real  and  essential  Presence,"  which  was  in  Ed- 
vrard  VL's  time  incorporated  in  the  28th  Article,  and 
afterwards  appended  to  the  Prayer  Book  in  his  Declara- 
tion of  Kneeling,  was  in  Elizabeth's  omitted  altogether, 


Chap.  V.]  THE   ENGLISH   CHURCH.  Ill 

and  when  revived  in  Charles  II.'s  time  was  altered  to 
meet  the  views  of  the  then  predominant  High  Church 
divines  ;  though  the  Declaration  itself  was  restored  at  the 
request  of  the  Puritan  party.  But  the  words  "  real  and 
essential  Presence  there  being  "  were  omitted,  and  the 
words  "  corporal  presence  "  substituted  for  them.  The 
consequence  is,  that  while  the  adoration  of  the  elements 
or  of  "  any  corporal  presence  of  Christ's  natural  flesh  and 
blood  "  is  strictly  forbidden  as  idolatrous,  the  worship  of 
"  any  real  and  essential  presence  there  being  of  Christ's 
natural  flesh  and  blood  "is  by  implication  not  condemned 
by  this  Declai'ation  of  the  Rubric. 

Most  characteristic  of  all  is  the  combination  of  the  two 
tendencies  in  the  words  of  the  administration  of  the 
Eucharist.  In  the  first  Prayer  Book  of  Edward  VI., 
which  retained  as  much  as  possible  of  the  ancient  forms 
both  in  belief  and  usage,  the  words  were  almost  the  same 
as  now  in  the  Roman  Church,  and  as  formerly  in  the 
Sarum  Missal :  "  The  Body  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
which  was  given  for  thee,  preserve  thy  body  and  soul 
unto  everlasting  life."  In  the  second  Prayer  Book  of 
Edward  VI.,  when  the  Swiss  influence  had  taken  com- 
plete possession  of  the  English  Reformers,  this  clause 
was  dropped,  and  in  its  place  was  substituted  the  words, 
''  Take  and  eat  this  in  remembrance  that  Christ  died  for 
thee,  and  feed  on  Him  in  thy  heart  by  faith  with  thanks- 
giving." In  the  Prayer  Book  of  Elizabeth,  and  no  doubt 
by  her  desire,  the  two  clauses  were  united,  and  so  have 
remained  ever  since.  "  Excellently  well  done  was  it," 
says  an  old  Anglican  divine,^  "  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and 
her  Reformers,  to  link  both  together;  for  between  the 
Body  and  Blood  of  Christ  in  the  Eucharist,  and  the 
Sacramental  Commemoration  of  His  Passion,  there  is  so 
inseparable  a  league  as  subsist  they  cannot,  except  they 

1  L' Estrange,  Alliance  of  Divine  Offices,  p.  219. 


112  THE  REAL  PRESENCE.  [Chap.  V. 

consist.''  "  Excellently  well  done  was  it,"  we  may  add, 
to  leave  this  standing  proof,  in  the  very  heart  of  our 
most  solemn  service,  that  the  two  views  which  have  long 
divided  the  Christian  Church  are  compatible  with  joint 
Christian  communion  —  so  that  here  at  least  Luther  and 
Zwinsfli  miffht  feel  themselves  at  one  ;  that  the  Puritan 
Edward  and  the  Roman  Mary  might,  had  they  lived  un- 
der the  Latitudinarian  though  Lutheran  Elizabeth,  have 
thus  far  worshipped  together. 

What  has  occurred  in  the  Church  of  England  is  an  ex- 
ample of  what  might  occur  and  has  occurred  in  other 
churches,  not  so  pointedly  perhaps,  but  not  less  really. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD   OF   CHRIST. 

It  may  be  necessary,  in  order  to  justify  and  explain 
the  preceding  chapter,  to  inquire  into  the  Biblical  mean- 
ing of  the  expressions  "tlie  body"  and  "the  blood  of 
Christ,"  both  as  they  occur  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  without 
express  reference  to  the  Eucharist,  and  as  they  occur  in 
connection  with  the  Eucharist  in  the  three  Gospels  and 
the  Epistles. 

I.  The  words  in  St.  John's  Gospel  (vi.  53-56)  are  as 
follows :  "  Except  ye  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  man, 
and  drink  His  blood,  ye  have  no  life  in  you.  st.  John's 
Whoso  eateth  My  flesh,  and  drinketh  My  blood,  ^°^p''^- 
hath  eternal  life  ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day. 
For  My  flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  My  blood  is  drink  in- 
deed. He  that  eateth  My  flesh,  and  drinketh  My  blood, 
dwelleth  in  Me,  and  I  in  him." 

It  is  said  that  a  great  orator  once  gave  this  advice  to  a 

younger  speaker  who  asked  his  counsel :  "  You  are  more 

anxious  about  words  than  about  ideas.     Remember  that 

if  you  are  thinking  of  words  you  will  have  no  ideas ;  but 

if  you  have  ideas,  words  will  come  of  themselves."  ^    That 

is  true  as  regards  ordinary  eloquence.     It  is  no  less  true 

in  considering  the  eloquence  of  religion.     In  theology,  in 

religious  conversation,  in  religious  ordinances,  we  ouglit 

as  much  as  possible  to  try  to  get  beneath  the  phrases  we 

1  Mr.  Pitt  to  Lord  Wellesley.    Eeminiscences  of  Archdeacon  Sinclair,  p.  273. 
8 


114  THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

use,  and  never  to  rest  satisfied  with  the  words,  however 
excellent,  until  we  have  ascertained  what  we  mean  by 
them.  Thus  alone  can  we  fathom  the  depth  of  such 
phrases ;  thus  alone  can  we  protect  ourselves  against  the 
superstition  of  forms  and  the  "  idols  of  the  market-place ;  " 
thus  alone  can  we  grasp  the  realities  of  which  words  and 
forms  are  the  shadow. 

The  passage  under  consideration  in  St.  John's  Gospel 
at  once  contains  this  principle,  and  also  is  one  of  the 
most  striking  examples  of  it.  It  is  one  of  those  startling 
expressions  used  by  Christ  to  show  us  that  He  intends  to 
drive  us  from  the  letter  to  the  spirit,  by  which  He  shat- 
ters the  crust  and  shell  in  order  to  force  us  to  the  kernel. 
It  is  as  if  He  said :  "  It  is  not  enough  for  you  to  see  the 
outward  face  of  the  Son  of  man,  or  hear  His  outward 
words,  to  touch  His  outward  vesture.  That  is  not  Him- 
self. It  is  not  enough,  that  you  walk  by  His  side,  or  hear 
others  talk  of  Him,  or  use  terms  of  affection  and  endear- 
ment towards  Him.  You  must  go  deeper  than  this  :  you 
must  go  to  His  very  inmost  heart,  to  the  very  core  and 
marrow  of  His  being.  You  must  not  only  read  and  un- 
derstand, but  you  must  mark,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest, 
and  make  part  of  yourselves,  that  which  alone  can  be 
part  of  the  human  spirit  and  conscience."  ^  It  expresses, 
with  regard  to  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
same  general  truth  as  is  expressed  when  St.  Paul  says : 
"  Put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ "  —  that  is,  clothe 
yourselves  with  His  spirit  as  with  a  garment.  Or  again  : 
"  Let  the  same  mind  be  in  you  as  was  in  Christ  Jesus." 
It  is  the  general  truth  which  our  Lord  himself  expressed : 
*•'  I  am  the  Vine  ;  ye  are  the  branches."  In  all  the  mean- 
ing is  the  same ;  but,  inasmuch  as  the  figure  of  speech  of 
which  we  are  now  speaking  is  stronger,  it  also  expresses 

1  This  is  well  put  in  an  early  sermon  of  Arnold  on  this  passage,  vol.  i.  Ser- 
mon XXIV. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   SYNOPTIC    GOSPELS.  115 

more  fully  and  forcibly  what  the  others  express  gener- 
ally. It  is  the  figure,  not  altogether  strange  to  Western 
ears,  but  more  familiar  to  the  Eastern  mind,  in  which  in- 
tellectual and  moral  instruction  is  represented  under  the 
image  of  eating  and  drinking,  feasting  and  carousing, 
digesting  and  nourishing.  "  I,"  says  Wisdom  in  the  book 
of  Ecclesiasticus,  — "  am  the  mother  of  fair  love,  and  fear, 
and  knowledge,  and  holy  hope  :  I  therefore,  being  eter- 
nal, am  given  to  all  my  children.  Come  unto  me,  all  ye 
that  be  desirous  of  me,  and  fill  yourselves  with  my  fruits. 
For  my  memorial  is  sweeter  than  honey,  and  mine  inheri- 
tance than  the  honeycomb.  They  that  eat  me  shall  still 
hunger  for  more  ;  they  that  drink  me  shall  still  thirst  for 
more."  ^  It  is  no  doubt  to  modern  culture  a  repulsive  ^ 
metaphor,  but  it  is  the  same  which  has  entered  into  all 
European  languages  in  speaking  of  the  most  refined  form 
of  mental  appreciation  —  taste.  If  we  ask  how  this  word 
has  thus  come  to  be  used,  it  is  difficult  to  say.  "  All  that 
we  know  about  the  matter  is  this.  Man  has  chosen  to 
take  a  metaphor  from  the  body  and  apply  it  to  the  mind. 
'  Tact'  from  touch  is  an  analogous  instance."  ^  This  gen- 
eral usage  is  sufficient  to  justify  the  expression  without 
going  back  to  the  more  barbarous  and  literal  practices 
in  which,  in  savage  tribes,  the  conquerors  devour  the 
flesh  of  a  hostile  chief  in  order  to  absorb  his  courage 
into  themselves,  or  the  parents  feed  their  children  with 
the  flesh  of  strong  or  spirited  children  in  order  to  give 
them  energy.'* 

II.  We  pass  to  the  kindred  but  yet  more  famous 
words  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels  in  the  account  of  ,jy^^  synop- 
the  Last  Supper  (Matt.  xxvi.  26,  28  ;  Mark  xiv.  "•=  «'^^'i"^^- 

1  Ecclesiasticus  xxiv.  18-21.     Cf.  Prov.  ix.  5.     See  also  Sayinr/s  of  Jeivish 
Fathers,  by  C.  Taylor,  quoted  in  Philochristus,  p.  438. 

2  See  Foster's  J'Jssays,  p.  279. 

8  Sj'dney  Smith,  Lectures  on  Moral  Philosophy,  p]).  153,  154. 
*  Herbert  Spencer,  Sociology,  vol.  i.  pp.  259,  299,  300. 


116  THE   BODY  AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

22,  24;  Luke  xxii.  19,  and,  with  a  slight  variation,  22). 
And  these  same  words,  long  before  the  composition  of 
the  earliest  of  the  present  Gospels,  are  recorded  b}^  St. 
Paul  in  his  narrative  of  the  same  event  (1  Cor.  xi.  24, 
and,  with  tlie  same  variation  as  in  St.  Luke),  and  thus 
form  the  most  incontestable  and  the  most  authentic 
speech  of  the  Founder  of  our  Religion  :  "  TJds  is  My 
hody  ;   This  is  3Iy  hlood:' 

Two  circumstances  guide  us  to  their  historical  mean- 
ing before  we  enter  on  them  in  detail.  The  first  is  that, 
on  their  very  face,  they  appear  before  us  as  the  crowning 
example  of  the  style  of  Him  whose  main  characteristic  it 
was  that  He  spoke  and  acted  in  parable,  or  proverb,  or 
figui'e  of  speech.  The  second  is  that,  though  the  words 
of  the  passage,  as  recorded  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  could  by 
no  possibility  have  a  direct  reference  to  the  Last  Supper, 
which,  at  the  time  of  the  discourse  at  Capernaum,  was 
still  far  in  the  distance,  and  to  which,  even  when  record- 
ing the  sacred  meal,  the  author  of  that  Gospel  makes  no 
allusion,  the  probability  is  that  they  both  contain  the 
moral  principle  that  is  indicated  in  the  outward  act  of 
the  Eiicharistic  ordinance.  What  this  general  truth  must 
be  we  have  already  indicated :  namely,  that,  however 
material  the  expressions,  the  idea  wrapped  up  in  them 
is,  as  in  all  the  teaching  of  Christ,  not  material,  but  spir- 
itual, and  that  the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  them  is 
not  speculative,  but  moral  and  practical.  All  the  con- 
verging sentiments  of  reverence  for  Him  who  spoke  them, 
all  our  instinctive  feeling  of  the  unity  of  the  Gospel  nar- 
ratives, would  lead  us  in  this  direction  even  without  any 
further  inquiry  into  the  particular  meaning  of  the  sepa- 
rate phrases.  In  this  general  sense  the  meaning  of  the 
two  words  is  indivisible,  even  as  in  the  older  Churches 
of  Christendom  the  outward  form  of  administration  con- 
founds the  two  elements  together  —  in  the  Roman  Church 


CiiAP.  VI.]  THE   BODY.  117 

by  representing  both  in  the  bread,  in  the  Greek  Church 
by  mixing  both  in  the  same  moment.  But  there  is  never- 
theless a  distinction  which  the  original  institution  ex- 
presses, and  of  which  the  likeness  is  preserved  in  all  Prot- 
estant Churches  by  the  separate  administration  of  the 
elements.  Following,  therefore,  this  distinction  between 
the  two  phrases,  we  will  endeavor  to  ask  what  is  the 
Biblical  meaning,  first  of  "  the  body  "  and  then  "  the 
blood  "  of  Christ. 

1.  What  are  we  to  suppose  that  our  Lord  intended 
when,  holding  in  His  hands  the  large  round  Paschal 
cake.  He  brake  it  and  said,  "This  is  My  body?"  And 
secondly,  what  are  we  to  suppose  that  St.  Paul  meant 
when  he  said,  speaking  of  the  like  action  of  the' Corin- 
thian Christians,  "  The  bread  which  we  break,  is  it  not 
the  communion  of  the  body  of  Christ?  " 

It  is  maintained  in  the  Church  of  Crete  that  the  orig- 
inal bread  is  there  preserved  in  fragments,  and  that  this 
is  the  literal  perpetuation  of  the  first  sacra-  TheBody 
mental  "  body."  Another  like  tradition  pre-  ^fVST 
vails  amongst  the  Nestorians.  John  the  Bap-  character, 
tist  gave  to  John  the  Evangelist  some  of  the  water  from 
the  baptism.  Jesus  gave  to  John  two  loaves  at  the  Last 
Supper.  John  mixed  his  with  the  water  of  the  Baptism 
and  with  the  water  and  blood  which  he  caught  at  the 
Crucifixion,!  ground  it  all  into  powder  and  mixed  it  with 
flour  and  salt  into  a  leaven  which  is  still  used.  In  all 
other  churches  the  bread  used  can  only  by  a  dramatic 
figure  be  supposed  to  represent  the  original  subject  of 
the  words  of  institution.  The  main  question  is  the  mean- 
ing, in  the  Gospels,  of  the  word  "  body."  As  in  other 
parts  of  the  Bible,  the  hand,  the  heart,  the  face  of  God 
are  used  for  God  Himself,  so  the  body,  the  flesh  of  Christ 
are  used  for  Christ  Himself,  for  His  whole  personality 

1  Culta,  Christianity  under  the  Crescent,  p.  24. 


118  THE  BODY  AND  BLOOD.         [Chap.  VI. 

and  character.  "  The  body,"  "  the  flesh,"  "  the  bone," 
was  the  Hebrew  expression  for  the  identity  of  any  per- 
son or  any  thing.  "  The  body  of  heaven  "  ^  meant  the 
very  heaven,  "  the  body  of  the  day  "  meant  the  selfsame 
day ,2  the  body  of  a  man  meant  his  full  strength.^  Even 
if  we  were  to  suppose  that  He  meant  literally  His  flesh 
to  be  eaten  —  even  if  we  adopted  the  belief  which  the 
Roman  heathens  ascribed  to  the  early  Christians,  that 
the  sacrament  was  a  cannibals'  feast —  even  then,  unless 
Christianity  had  been  the  most  monstrous  of  supersti- 
tions, this  banquet  of  human  flesh  could  have  been  of  no 
use.  It  would  have  been  not  only  revolting,  but,  by  the 
nature  of  the  case,  unprofitable.  What  is  external  can 
never,  except  through  the  spirit,  touch  the  spirit.  To 
suppose  that  the  material  can  of  itself  reach  the  spiritual 
is  not  religion,  but  magic.  As  in  the  communion  with 
our  actual  friends  it  is  not  the  countenance  that  we  value, 
but  the  mind  which  speaks  through  the  countenance  — 
it  is  not  the  sound  of  the  words,  but  the  meaning  of  the 
words,  that  we  delight  to  hear  —  so  also  must  it  be  in 
communion  with  One  who,  the  more  we  know  and  think 
of  Him,  can  have  no  other  than  a  moral  and  spiritual  re- 
lation to  us.  "  After  the  flesh  we  know  Him  no  more," 
It  is,  as  the  English  Prayer  Book  expresses  it,  "  His  one 
oblation  of  Himself  once  offered."  It  is  not  the  mere 
name  of  Jesus  "  which  sounds  so  sweet  to  a  believer's 
ear,"  but  the  whole  mass  of  vivifying  associations  which 
that  name  brings  with  it.  The  picture  of  Jesus  which 
we  require  is  not  that  fabled  portrait  sent  to  King  Ab- 
garus,  or  that  yet  more  fabled  portrait  impressed  on  the 
handkerchief  of  Veronica,  but  the  living  image  of  His 
sweet  reasonableness,  His  secret  of  happiness.  His  method 
of  addressing  the  human  heart.  When,  some  j'^ears  ago, 
one  of  the  few  learned  divines  of  the  Church  of  France, 
1  Ex.  xxiv.  10.  2  Gen.  xvii.  23,  26.  »  Job  xxi.  23. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BODY.  119 

the  Pore  Gratry,  wished  to  correct  some  erroneous  repre- 
sentations of  Christ,  he  sought  for  the  true  picture  —  le 
vrai  tableau  —  not  in  the  traditions  of  his  own  Cliurch, 
nor  in  the  consecrated  wafer,  but  in  the  grand  and  im- 
pressive portrait  drawn  by  the  profound  insight  of  the 
foremost  of  Protestant  theohigians  in  the  closing  volumes 
of  EvvakVs  "  History  of  the  People  of  Israel."  The  true 
"  sacred  heart  "  of  Jesus  is  not  the  physical  bleeding 
anatomical  dissection  of  the  Saviour's  heart,  such  as  ap- 
peared to  the  sickly  visionary  of  France  at  Paray-le- 
Monial  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  the  wide  embrac- 
ing toleration  and  compassion  which  even  to  the  holiest 
sons  and  daughters  of  France  at  that  time  was  as  a  sealed 
book.  The  true  cross  of  Christendom  is  not  one  or  all 
of  the  wooden  fragments,  be  they  ever  so  genuine,  found, 
or  imagined  to  be  found,  by  the  Empress  Helena,  but, 
in  the  words  of  Goethe,  "  the  depth  of  divine  sorrow  "  of 
which  the  cross  is  an  emblem.  "  It  is,"  as  Luther  said, 
"  that  cross  of  Christ  which  is  divided  throughout  the 
whole  world  not  in  the  particles  of  broken  wood,  but  that 
cross  which  comes  to  each  as  his  own  portion  of  life. 
Thou  therefore  cast  not  thy  portion  from  thee,  but  rather 
take  it  to  thee  —  thy  suffering,  whatever  it  be  —  as  a 
most  sacred  relic,  and  lay  it  up  not  in  a  golden  or  silver 
shrine,  but  in  a  golden  heart,  a  heart  clothed  with  gentle 
charity."  Perhaps  the  strongest  of  all  these  expressions 
is  "the  Spirit"  applied  to  the  innermost  part  alike  of 
God  and  of  man.  It  is  breath,  wind}  On  one  occasion 
we  are  told  that  our  Saviour  actually  breathed  on  His 
disciples.  But  that  breath,  even  though  it  was  the  most 
sacred  breath  of  Chi-ist,  was  not  itself  the  Spirit  —  it  was, 
and  could  be,  only  its  emblem. 

And  as  the  cross,  the  picture,  the  heart,  the  breath  of 
Christ   must   of   necessity  point  to  something  different 
1  Sidney  Smith,  Lectures  on  Moral  Philoso2)hy,  p.  12. 


120  THE   BODY    AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

from  the  mere  outward  form  and  symbol,  so  also  "  the 
body,"  which  is  represented  in  the  sacramental  bread  or 
spoken  of  in  the  sacramental  words,  must  of  necessity  be 
not  the  mere  flesh  and  bones  of  the  Redeemer,  but  that 
undying  love  of  truth,  that  indefatigable  beneficence,  that 
absolute  resignation  to  His  Father's  will,  by  which  alone 
we  recognize  His  unique  personality.  Tiie  words  that 
He  spoke  (so  He  Himself  said)  were  the  spirit  and  the 
life  of  His  existence  —  those  words  of  which  it  was  said 
at  the  close  of  a  long  and  venerable  career  by  one^  who 
knew  well  the  history  of  Christianity,  that  they,  and 
they  alone,  contain  the  primal  and  indefeasible  truths  of 
the  Christian  religion  which  shall  not  pass  awa3\  That 
character  and  those  words  have  been,  and  are,  and  will 
be,  the  true  sustenance  of  the  human  spirit,  and  the 
heavenly  manna  of  which  it  may  be  said,  almost  without 
a  figure,  that  "  he  who  gathers  much  has  nothing  over, 
and  even  he  who  gathers  little  has  no  lack."  Such, 
amidst  many  inconsistencies,  was  the  definition  of  "  the 
body  of  Christ "  even  by  some  of  the  ancient  fathers, 
Origen,  Jerome,  even  Gregory  called  the  Great.  Such, 
amidst  many  contradictions,  was  the  nobler  view  main- 
tained at  least  in  one  remarkable  passage  even  in  the 
Roman  Missal  which  states  that  where  the  sacrament 
cannot  be  had  "  sufficit  vera  fides  et  bona  voluntas. 
Tantum  crede  et  manducasti."  It  has  been  well  said  by 
a  devout  Scottish  bishop,  in  speaking  of  this  subject : 
"  We  should  not  expect  to  arrive  at  the  secret  of  Hamlet 
by  eating  a  bit  of  Shakespeare's  body ;  and  so,  though 
we  ate  ever  so  much  of  the  material  bones  or  flesh  of  the 
Founder  of  the  Eucharist,  we  should  not  arrive  one  whit 
nearer  to  '  the  mind  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus.'  "  ^  It 
is  only  by  the  mind  that  we  can  appropriate  the  mind 

1  Milinan's  IfiKfory  of  Lnlin  Christianity,  vol.  vi.  p.  638. 

2  Memoir  of  Bishoj)  Ewing. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BODY.  121 

and  heart  of  Christ  —  only  by  the  spirit  that  we  can 
appropriate  His  spirit.  And  therefore  (it  is  an  old  truth, 
but  one  wbicli  requires  to  be  again  and  again  repeated) 
all  acts  of  so-called  communion  with  Christ  have  no  Bib- 
lical or  spiritual  meaning  except  in  proportion  as  they 
involve  or  express  a  moral  fellowship  with  the  Holy,  the 
Just,  the  Pure,  and  the  Truthful,  wherever  His  likeness 
can  be  found  —  except  in  proportion  as  our  sj^irits,  minds, 
and  characters  move  in  unison  with  the  parables  of  the 
Prodigal  Son,  and  the  Good  Samaritan,  and  the  Faithful 
Servant,  and  the  Good  Shepherd  ;  with  the  Beatitudes 
on  the  Galilean  mountain,  with  the  resignation  of  Geth- 
semane,  with  the  courage  of  Calvary.  In  proportion  as 
the  ordinance  of  the  Eucharist  enables  us  to  do  this,  it  is 
a  true  partaking  of  what  the  Gospels  intended  by  the 
body  of  Christ ;  in  proportion  as  it  fails  to  do  this,  it  is 
no  partaking  of  anything. 

This  is  what  is  adumbrated  in  the  English  Communion- 
Ofl&ce,  and  by  feebler  expressions  in  the  Rom.in  Office, 
when  it  is  said  that  every  communicant  pledges  himself 
to  walk  in  the  stej)s  of  the  great  Self-sacrificer,  and  to 
offer  himself  a  sacrifice  of  body,  soul,  and  spirit  to  the 
Heavenly  Father.  We  must  incorporate  and  incarnate 
in  ourselves  —  that  is,  in  our  moral  natures — the  sub- 
stance, the  moral  substance,  of  the  teaching  and  char- 
acter of  Jesus  Christ.  That  is  the  only  true  transub- 
stantiation.  We  must  raise  ourselves  above  the  base 
and  mean  and  commonplace  trivialties  and  follies  of  the 
world  and  of  the  Church  to  the  lofty  ideal  of  the  Gospel 
story.  That  is  the  only  true  elevation  of  the  Host. 
Nor  is  there  anything  fanciful  or  overstrained  in  the  met- 
aphor, when  we  grasp  the  substance  of  which  it  is  the 
sign.  The  record  of  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ, 
however  we  interpret  it,  is,  and  must  be,  the  body,  the 
substance,  the  backbone  of  Christendom. 


122  THE   BODY   AND    BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

2.  And  this  leads  us  to  pass  from  the  meaning  of  the 
phrase  in  the  Gospels  to  its  meaning  in  the  Epistles.  St. 
The  Body  is  ^^^^^  distinctly  tells  us  in  the  same  Epistle  as 
the  Church,  ^j^^^  ^^  which  he  gives  the  earliest  narrative  of 
the  Supper  (1  Cor.  x.  16,  17),  "  For  we  being  many  are 
one  bread  and  one  body  "  —  that  is,  as  the  bread  is  one 
loaf  made  up  of  many  particles  and  crumbs,  so  the 
Christian  society  is  one  body  made  up  of  many  mem- 
bers, and  that  body  is  the  body  of  Christ.  Christ  is 
gone  ;  the  body,  the  outward  form  and  substance  that 
takes  His  place,  is  the  assembly,  the  congregation  of  all 
His  true  followers.  In  this  sense  "  the  body  of  Christ  " 
is  (as  is  expressed  in  the  second  prayer  of  the  English 
Communion  Office)  "  the  blessed  company  of  all  faithful 
people."  This  is  the  "body"  —  the  community  and  fel- 
lowship one  with  another  which  the  Corinthian  Chris- 
tians were  so  slow  to  discern. ^  This  is  the  sense  in  which 
the  words  are  used  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances 
where  the  expression  occurs  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles.^  It  is 
a  use  of  the  word  which  no  doubt  varies  from  that  in 
which  it  is  employed  by  Christ  Himself,  and  thus  shows 
the  extraordinary  freedom  of  the  Apostle  in  dealing 
even  with  the  most  sacred  phrases.  But  the  doctrine 
is  the  same  as  that  which  in  substance  pervades  the 
general  teaching  of  our  Lord  —  namely,  that  the  wise, 
the  good,  the  suffering  everywhere  are  His  substitutes. 
"  Wheresoever  two  or  three  are  gathered  together,  there 
am  I  in  the  midst  of  them."  "  He  that  rec^iveth  you 
receiveth  Me."     The  whole  point  of  the  description  of 

1  1  Cor.  xi.  29.  Even  if  the  words  were  as  in  the  English  Authorized  Ver- 
sion "not  discerning  the  Lord's  body,'''  the  sense  would  still  be  governed  by 
the  uniform  language  of  the  Apostle.  But  the  meaning  is  brought  out  still 
more  strongly  in  the  genuine  text,  where  it  is  simply  "  not  discerning  the 
body.''' 

2  Compare  Rom.  xii.  4,  5;  1  Cor.  xii.  12,  13,  20,  27;  Eph.  iii.  6,  ii.  16,  iv.  4, 
12,  16;  Col.  i.  18,  iii.  15,  19. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BODY.  123 

the  Last  Judgment  is,  that  even  the  good  heathens  hav- 
ing never  heard  His  name,  yet  have  seen  Him  and  served 
Him,  and  when  they  ask  Him  "  When  saw  we  Thee  ?  " 
He  answers,  without  hesitation  or  reserve  :  "  Inasmuch 
as  ye  did  it  to  the  least  of  these  My  brethren,  ye  did  it 
unto  Me.  It  was  I  who  was  hungry,  and  ye  gave  Me 
food.  -It  was  I  who  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  Me  drink. 
It  was  I  who  was  a  friendless  stranger,  and  ye  took  Me 
in.  It  was  I  who  was  naked,  and  ye  clothed  Me.  It 
was  I  who  was  on  my  sick-bed,  and  ye  visited  Me.  It 
It  was  I  who  was  shut  up  in  prison,  and  ye  visited  me." 
These  good  deeds,  wherever  practised,  are  the  true  signs 
that  Christ  and  Christianity  have  been  there.  Even  if 
practised  without  naming  His  name,  they  are  still  the 
trophies  of  the  victory  over  evil,  for  which  He  lived  and 
died ;  they  are  on  the  desert  island  of  this  mortal  ex- 
istence the  footmarks  which  show  that  something  truly 
human,  and  therefore  truly  divine,  has  passed  that 
way. 

If  this  be  so  —  if  every  faithful  servant  of  truth  and 
goodness  throughout  the  world  is  the  representative  of 
the  Founder  of  our  faith  —  if  every  friendless  sufferer  to 
•whom  we  can  render  a  service  is  as  if  Christ  Himself 
appeared  to  us  —  then,  not  in  the  scholastic,  but  certainly 
in  the  Biblical  sense  of  the  word,  there  is  a  Real  Pres- 
ence diffused  through  our  whole  daily  intercourse.  It  is 
the  truth  which  the  Swiss  Reformer  expressed,  who,  see- 
ing a  number  of  famished  people  around  the  church- 
door,  said  :  "I  will  not  enter  the  church  over  the  body 
of  Christ."  And  lest  this  should  seem  to  be  a  vague  or 
unimpressive  or  unedifying  doctrine,  we  venture  to  draw 
out  its  consequences  more  at  length. 

The  whole  of  Christendom,  the  whole  of  humanity,  is, 
in  this  sense,  one  body  and  many  members.  In  the  vast 
variety  of  human  gifts  and  human  characters,  it  is  only 


124  THE    BODY    AND    BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

by  this  sympathy,  forbearance,  appreciation  of  that  which 
one  has  and  the  other  hicks,  that  we  reach  that  ideal  of 
society  such  as  St.  Paul  imagined,  such  as  Butler  in  his 
Sermon  on  Human  Nature  so  well  sets  forth.  It  is  the 
old  Roman  fable  of  Menenius  Agrippa  taken  up  and 
sanctified  by  the  Christian  Apostle.  It  is,  as  the  French 
would  say,  the  recognition  in  the  Bible  of  the  "  solidar- 
ity "  of  peoples,  of  churches,  and  of  men.  It  is  the  pro- 
test against  the  isolated  selfishness  in  which  we  often 
shut  ourselves  up  against  wider  sympathies.  And  as  a 
nation  we  are  one  body,  drawn  together  by  the  long 
tradition  and  lineage  which  have  made  us  of  one  flesh 
and  blood.  Blood  is  thicker  than  water.  Except  we 
acknowledge  the  unity  of  our  common  kindred,  we  have 
no  true  national  life  abiding  in  us.  We  are  one  "  body 
politic  "  —  a  fine  expression  which  St.  Paul  has  taught 
us.  Our  unity  as  Englishmen  is  also  our  unity  in  Him 
of  whom  all  the  tribes  and  families  in  earth  are  named. 
We  were  made  one  nation  and  one  race  by  the  order  of 
His  providence  ;  and  they  who  make  more  of  their  party  or 
their  sect  than  of  their  country  are  refusing  communion 
with  the  body  of  Him  "whose  fulness  filleth  all  in  all." 
And  also  as  a  Church,  whether  the  Church  Universal  or 
the  Church  of  our  country,  we  are  one  body  ;  for  the 
likenesses  of  character  and  opinion  and  pursuit  which 
unite  us,  whether  within  the  pale  of  the  Church  or 
without  it,  are  but  as  so  many  bones  and  sinews,  tissues 
and  fibres,  whereby  "the  whole  body,  being  fitly  joined 
together  and  compacted  by  that  which  every  joint  sup- 
plieth,  maketh  increase  of  the  body  unto  the  edifying 
of  itself  in  love."  And  there  is,  also,  the  one  body  in 
which  there  is  the  one  eternal  communion  of  the  living 
and  the  dead.  Here  the  partitions  of  flesh  fall  away. 
Here  there  is  but  the  communion  of  the  spirit.  But 
that  communion  is  the  deepest  and  the  most  enduring  of 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  125 

all,  for  it  is  beyond  tlie  reach  of  time  or  chance.  It  can 
never  be  broken  except  by  our  own  negligence  and  self- 
ishness. Whether  it  be  the  departure  of  a  soul  in  the 
fulness  of  its  glory  and  its  usefulness,  or  of  a  soul  bur- 
dened with  the  decay  and  weariness  of  its  long  pilgrim- 
age, the  union  may  and  shall  still  subsist.  "  We  do  not 
count  by  months  and  yeai's  where  they  are  gone  to 
dwell ;  "  we  know  only  that  they  are  in  Him  and  with 
Him  in  whom  we  also  live  and  move  and  have  our  being. 
They  live  because  God  lives,  and  we  live  or  may  live 
with  them  in  that  unity  of  soul  and  spirit  which  is  be- 
yond the  grave  and  gate  of  death. 

3.  We  now  propose  to  take  the  expression,  the  blood  of 
Christ,  whether  as  used  in  the  Gospels  or  in  the  Epistles.^ 
First,  is  it  the  actual  physical  blood  shed  on  the  xheWoodof 
cross  or  flowing  in  the  Redeemer's  veins  ?  In  ^'^™'^- 
the  Middle  Ages  it  was  not  an  uncommon  belief  that 
drops  of  this  blood  had  been  preserved  in  various  local- 
ities. There  was  the  legend  of  the  Sangrail  or  Holy 
Cup,  or,  as  some  used  to  read  it,  the  Sangreal  or  the 
"  real  blood,"  said  to  have  been  brought  by  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  to  Glastonbury  and  sought  for  by  the  Knights 
of  King  Arthur's  Round  Table.  There  is  still  shown  in 
the  church  of  Brussels  a  phial  containing  the  blood  — 
"  the  precious  blood,"  as  it  is  called  —  said  to  have  been 
brought  back  by  the  Crusaders.  There  was  another 
phial,  which  the  Master  of  the  Temple  gave  to  Henry 
III.,  and  which  he  carried  in  state  from  St.  Paul's  to 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  of  which  drops  were  also 
shown  at  Ashridge  and  Hailes  Abbey.  The  Abbey  of 
Fecamp  was  also  built  to  receive  a  casket  which  brought 
the  like  sacred  liquid  in  a  miraculous  boat  to  the  shores 

1  The  phrase  "body  of  Christ"  (with  the  exception  of  Heb.  x.  5,  10)  does 
not  occur  in  other  than  St.  Paul's  Epistles.  But  the  phrase  "the  blood  of 
Christ "  occurs  also  in  the  Epistles  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  John  and  that  to  the 
Hebrews. 


126  THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

of  Normandy.  But  even  where  these  relics  are  not  at 
once  condemned  as  fabulous  or  spurious,  the  shrines 
which  contain  them  ai'e  comjaaratively  deserted.  The 
pilgrims  to  the  churches  at  Fecamp  and  Brussels  cannot 
be  named  in  compainson  with  the  crowds  that  flock  to 
the  modern  centres  of  French  devotion.  And  even  as 
far  back  as  the  thirteenth  century  Thomas  Aquinas 
speaks  of  these  literal  drops  with  indifference. 

Nor,  again,  was  the  actual  bloodshed  the  most  con- 
spicuous characteristic  of  the  Crucifixion.  jVIodes  of 
death  there  are  where  the  scaffold  is  deluged  with  blood 
—  where  the  spectators,  the  executioners,  the  victims, 
are  plunged  in  the  crimson  stream.  Not  so  in  the  few 
faint  drops  which  trickled  from  the  hands  and  feet  of 
the  Crucified,  or  which  flowed  from  His  wounded  side. 
There  was  pallor,  and  thirst,  and  anguish,  but  the  phys- 
ical bloodshed  was  the  last  thing  that  a  by-stander  would 
have  noticed.  Nor,  again,  has  it  been  supposed  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  except  by  very  ignorant  per- 
sons, that  the  wine  in  the  Eucharist  is  the  actual  phys- 
ical blood  of  Christ.  There  is,  indeed,  a  small  chapel  on 
the  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Bolsena  in  which  are  pointed 
out  spots  of  blood  as  from  the  sacramental  wine,  and 
there  was  at  Wilsnake,  in  the  north  of  Germany,  a  nap- 
kin marked  with  similar  stains.  But  these  ai'e  now 
treated  either  with  contempt  and  incredulity,  or  at  the 
most  as  exceptional  portents. 

It  is  obvious,  then,  that,  alike  in  the  Catholic  and  Prot- 
estant world,  the  expression  "  blood  of  Christ "  is  by  all 
thinking  Christians  regarded  as  a  figure  of  speech,  sacred 
and  solemn,  but  still  pointing  to  something  beyond  itself. 
What  is  that  something?  The  wine  is  confessedly  the 
emblem  of  the  blood  of  Christ.  But  the  blood  of  Christ 
itself,  when  used  as  a  religious  term,  must  also  be  the 
emblem  of  some  spiritual  reality.  What  is  that  spir- 
itual reality  ? 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  127 

What  is  the  moral  significance  of  blood  ?     It  may  be 
manifold. 

There  is  its  peculiar  meaning  in  the  crimson  color 
which  overspreads  the  face  in  moments  of  great  emotion. 
It  has  been  well  said  :  "  If  God  made  the  blood 
of  man,  did  He  not  much  more  make  that  feel- 
ing which  summons  the  blood  to  his  face,  and  makes  it 
the  sign  of  guilt  ?  "  ^  and,  we  must  also  add,  of  just  in- 
dignation, of  honest  shame,  of  ingenuous  modesty  ?  It 
would  be  childish  to  speak  of  the  mere  color  or  liquid  of 
the  blood  in  these  cases  as  the  thing  important.  It  would 
be  unphilosophical,  on  the  other  hand,  not  to  acknowl- 
edge the  value  of  the  moral  quality  of  which  the  blood  in 
these  cases  is  the  sure  sign  and  sacrament.  There  is  a 
famous  passage  in  Terence  in  speaking  of  the  features  of 
a  young  man  :  "  He  blushes  —  his  face  glows  with  scar- 
let ;  he  is  saved."  QUrubuit ;  salva  res  est.')  He  was 
saved  by  that  which  the  mantling  blood  in  his  cheek 
represented. 

There  is  another  idea  of  which  blood  is  the  emblem. 
It  is  the  idea  of  suffering.  A  wound,  a  blow,  produces 
the  effusion  of  blood,  and  blood  therefore  sug- 
gests the  idea  of  pain.  This  is  no  doubt  part  of 
the  thought  in  such  passages  as  "  This  is  He  that  came 
by  water  and  by  blood,"  or  "  Without  shedding  of  blood 
there  is  no  remission,"  or  again  in  the  magnificent  de- 
scription of  the  conqueror  of  Edom  (Isa.  Ixiii.  1-3)  ad- 
vancing knee-deep  in  the  blood,  whether  of  himself  or 
his  enemies,  the  lively  expression  of  the  truth  that  with- 
out exertion  there  can  be  no  victory  —  that  "  via  crueis, 
via  lucis.''^  It  is  the  thought  so  well  set  forth  in  Keble's 
hymn  on  the  Circumcision  :  — 

Like  sacrificial  wine 

Poured  on  a  victim's  head 

1  Sydney  Smith,  Lectures  on  Moral  Philosophy,  p.  11. 


128  THE  BODY  AND  BLOOD.         [Chap.  VI. 

Are  those  few  precious  drops  of  Thine 
Now  first  to  offering  led. 

The}'  are  the  pledge  and  seal 

Of  Christ's  unswerving  faith 
Given  to  His  Sire,  our  souls  to  heal, 
*  Although  it  cost  His  death. i 

But  these  and  all  other  moral  senses  which  we  can  at- 
tach to  the  word  hlood  run  up  into  a  more  general  and 
The  inner-  also  a  mox'e  Biblical  Significance.  "  The  blood 
of  Christ.  of  a  living  thing  is  the  life  thereof."  This 
expression  of  the  old  Jewish  Law,  many  times  repeated, 
well  harmonizes  with  the  language  of  Harvey  :  "  Blood  is 
the  fountain  of  life,  the  first  to  live,  and  the  last  to  die, 
and  the  primary  seat  of  the  animal  soul."^  When  any 
one  was  described  as  shedding  his  blood  for  another,  or 
sealing  a  testament  or  will  or  covenant  with  his  blood,  it 
was  meant  that  he  sealed  or  signed  it  with  whatever  was 
most  precious,  most  a  part  of  himself.  The  blood  is  the 
life-blood  —  is,  as  it  were,  the  very  soul  of  those  who 
give  it.  The  spot  of  blood  placed  on  the  altar,  whether 
of  human  or  animal  sacrifice,  the  streak  of  blood  from 
the  Paschal  lamb  on  the  forehead  of  Jew  or  Samaritan, 
I'epresented  the  vital  spark  of  the  dead  creature  which  a 
few  moments  before  had  been  full  of  life  and  vigor. 

As,  then,  the  body  of  Christ,  in  the  language  of  Script- 
ure, means  (as  we  saw)  one  of  two  things  —  either  His 
general  character  and  moral  being,  or  the  Chris- 
tian and  human  society  which  now  represents 
Hira  —  so  the  blood  of  Christ  in  like  manner  means  the 
inmost  essence  of  His  character,  the  self  of  His  self,  or 
else  the  inmost  essence  of  the  Christian  society,  the  life- 
blood  of  Christendom  and  humanity.     And  therefore  we 

1  This  is  well  set  forth  in  an  interesting  volume  lateh'  published  by  Dr.  Story, 
of  Rosneath,  entitled  Creed  and  Conduct  (pp.  77-92). 

2  Lev.  xvii.  4.  See  Speaker's  Commentary,  vol.  i.  part  ii.  p.  836;  Ewald,  An- 
tiquities of  the  People  of  Israel,  pp.  05-41,  44-G2  (Eng.  transl.).  . 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  '  129 

must  ask  yet  another  question  :  What  is  the  most  essen- 
tial characteristic,  the  most  precious  part  of  Christ,  the 
most  peculiar  and  vivifying  element  of  Chvistendom  ? 
This  question  is  not  so  easy  to  answer  in  a  single  word. 
Different  minds  would  take  a  different  view  of  that  which 
to  them  constitutes  the  one  thing  needful,  the  one  indis- 
l>en sable  element  of  the  Christian  life.  To  some  it  would 
seem  to  be  freedom,  to  others  intellectual  progress,  to 
others  justice,  to  others  truth,  to  others  purity.  But 
looking  at  the  Bible  only,  and  taking  the  Bible  as  a 
whole  —  asking  what  is  at  once  the  most  comprehensive 
and  the  most  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  of  the  best  spirits  of  Christendom  —  we  can- 
not go  far  astray  in  adopting  the  only  definition  of  the 
blood  of  Christ  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  primitive 
times.  It  is  contained  in  one  of  the  three  undisputed,  or 
at  any  rate  least  disputed,  epistles  of  Ignatius  of  Antioch. 
"  The  blood  of  Christ,"  he  said,  "  is  love  or  charity."  ^ 
With  this  unquestionably  agrees  the  language  of  the  New 
Testament  as  to  the  essential  characteristic  of  God  and  of 
Christ.  Love,  unselfish  love,  is  there  spoken  of  again 
and  again  as  the  fundamental  essence  of  the  highest  life 
of  God  ;  and  it  is  also  evident  on  the  face  of  the  Gospels 
that  it  is  the  fundamental  motive  and  characteristic  of 
the  life  and  death  of  Christ.  It  is  this  love  stronger  than 
death,  this  love  manifesting  itself  in  death,  this  love  will- 
ing to  spend  itself  for  others,  that  is  the  blood  of  the  life 
in  which  God  is  well  pleased.  Not  the  pain  or  torture  of 
the  cross  —  for  that  was  alike  odious  to  God  and  useless 
to  man  —  but  the  love,  the  self-devotion,  the  generosity, 
the  magnanimity,  the  forgiveness,  the  toleration,  the  com- 
passion, of  which  that  blood  was  the  expression,  and  of 
which  that  life  and  death  were  the  fulfilment.  "  Non  san- 
guine sed  pietate  placatur  Deus  "  is  the  maxim  of  more 

1  Ignatius  Ad  Trail.  8. 
9 


130  THE   BODY   AND    BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

than  one  of  the  Fathers.  "  What  is  the  blood  of  Christ  ?  " 
asked  Livingstone  of  his  own  solitary  soul  in  the  last 
months  of  his  African  wanderings.  "  It  is  Himself.  It  is 
the  inherent  and  everlasting  mercy  of  God  made  appar- 
ent to  human  eyes  and  ears.  The  everlasting  love  was 
disclosed  by  our  Lord's  life  and  death.  It  showed  that 
God  forgives  because  He  loves  to  forgive.  He  rules,  if 
possible,  by  smiles  and  not  by  frowns.  Pain  is  only  a 
means  of  enforcing  love."  ^  The  charity  of  God  to  men, 
the  charity  of  men  to  one  another  with  all  its  endless  con- 
sequences —  if  it  be  not  this,  what  is  it  ?  If  there  be 
any  other  characteristic  of  Christ  more  essential  to  His 
true  nature,  any  message  of  the  gospel  more  precious  than 
this,  let  us  know  it.  But  till  we  are  told  of  any  other  we 
may  rest  contented  with  believing  that  it  is  that  which 
St.  John  himself  describes  as  the  essence  of  the  nature  of 
God  ("  God  is  love  "),  which  St.  Paul  describes  as  the 
highest  of  the  virtues  of  man  ("  The  greatest  of  these 
is  love  ").  It  is  that  which  Charles  Wesley,  in  one  of  his 
most  beautiful  hymns,  describes  as  the  best  answer  to 
the  soul  inquiring  after  God  :  not  justification  or  conver- 
sion, but  — 

Come,  0  Thou  Traveller  unknown ! 

Whom  still  I  hold,  but  cannot  see; 
Speak,  or  Thou  never  hence  shalt  move, 
And  tell  me  if  Thy  name  be  Love. 
In  vain  I  have  not  wept  and  strove  : 
Thy  nature  and  Thy  name  is  Love. 

It  is  that  which  John-  Keble,  in  a  poem  of  which  the 
sentiment  might  have  been  from  Whichcote  or  Schleier- 
macher,  describes  as  the  best  answer  to  the  inquiry  after 
the  religious  life  of  man :  not  the  sacraments,  not  the 
creeds,  but  — 

Wouldst  thou  the  life  of  souls  discern  ? 
Nor  human  wisdom  nor  divine 

^Livingstone's  Journal,  August  5,  1873.     The  word  used   is  "  What  is  the 
atonement  ?  "     But  be  evidently  meant  the  same  thing. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  131 

*  Helps  thee  by  aught  beside  to  learn : 

Love  is  life's  only  sign. 

It  is  that  which  Ken,  in  a  fine  passage  at  the  beginning 
of  his  "  Approach  to  the  Altar,"  thus  states  with  a  bold 
latitudinarianism,  like  indeed  to  the  theology  of  his 
hymns,  but  widely  at  variance  with  the  dogmatic  rigidity 
of  the  school  to  which  he  belonged  :  "  To  obtain  eternal 
life,  all  I  am  to  do  is  reduced  to  one  word  only,  and  that 
is  'love.'  This  is  the  first  and  great  command,  which 
comprehends  all  others  —  the  proper  evangelical  grace. 
....  The  love  of  God  is  a  grace  rather  felt  than  de- 
fined. It  is  the  general  tendency  and  inclination  of  the 
whole  man,  of  all  his  heart  and  soul  and  strength,  of  all 
his  powers  and  affections,  and  of  the  utmost  strength  of 
them  all,  to  God  as  his  chief  and  only  and  perfect  and 
infinite  good."  It  is  therefore  not  only  from  Calvary, 
but  from  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth  and  Capernaum  —  not 
only  from  the  Crucifixion,  but  from  all  His  acts  of  mercy 
and  words  of  wisdom  —  that  "  the  blood  of  Christ  "  de- 
rives its  moral  significance.  As  so  often  in  ordinary 
human  lives,  so  in  that  Divine  life,  the  death  was  the 
crowning  consummation  ;  but  as  in  the  best  human  lives, 
as  in  the  best  deaths  of  the  best  men,  so  also  in  that 
Divine  death,  the  end  was  of  value  only  or  chiefly  be- 
cause it  corresponded  so  entirely  to  the  best  of  lives. 
Doubtless  love  is  not  the  only  idea  of  perfection  —  kind- 
ness is  not  the  only  idea  of  Heaven.  The  terrible  suf- 
ferings of  this  present  world  ai'e,  we  all  knoAV,  very 
difficult  to  reconcile  with  the  belief  that  its  Maker  is 
all-loving.  Yet  still  the  gospel  story  leaves  no  doubt 
that  unselfish  kindness  and  compassion  were  the  leading 
principles  of  the  life  of  Christ ;  and  the  history  of 
Christendom  leaves  no  doubt  that  unselfish  benevolence 
and  kindness  are  the  most  valuable  elements  of  the  life 
of  society. 


132  THE   BODY   AND    BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, and  ask  in  what  special  way  the  fruit  of  the  grape, 
the  chalice  of  the  Communion,  represent  the  love  of 
Christ  and  the  love  of  His  followers,  the  answer  is  two- 
fold. 

First,  as  being  at  a  farewell  feast,  it  was  the  likeness 
of  the  blood  shed,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  in  the 
Theattesta-  signing  and  sealing  of  ti'eaties  or  covenants, 
tion.  'pijg  earliest   account  of  the  institution  of  the 

Eucharist  (1  Cor.  xi.  25)  expresses  this  directly.  Not 
"  This  is  my  blood,"  but  "  This  is  the  Neiv  Covenant  in 
my  hlood.''''  It  was  the  practice  of  the  ancient  Arabs  to 
sign  their  treaties  with  blood  drawn  from  their  own  veins. 
Even  in  modern  times,  when  the  Scottish  peasants  and 
nobles  desired  to  express  their  adhesion  to  the  Solemn 
League  and  Covenant,  they  in  some  instances  wrote  their 
names  with  their  blood.  There  are  also  examples  of  con- 
spirators binding  themselves  together  by  the  practice  of 
drinking  a  cup  filled  with  human  blood,  as  the  most  sol- 
emn mode  of  testifying  their  adhesion  to  each  other. 
There  is  again  the  expression  and  the  image  familiar  to 
all  of  us,  of  the  soldier,  the  martyr,  the  patriot  shed- 
ding his  blood  for  the  good  of  his  country,  his  cause,  his 
religion.  From  the  blood  of  the  righteous  Abel  to  the 
blood  of  Zacharias  who  was  slain  between  the  temple 
and  the  altar,  from  the  blood  of  Zacharias  to  the  last 
soldier  who  shed  his  blood  on  behalf  of  his  country,  it  is 
the  supreme  offering  which  any  human  being  can  make 
to  loyalty,  to  duty,  to  faith.  And  of  all  these  examples 
of  the  sacrifice  of  life,  of  the  shedding  of  blood,  the 
most  sacred,  the  most  efiicacious,  is  that  which  was 
offered  and  shed  on  Calvary,  because  it  was  the  offering 
made  not  for  war  or  aggression,  but  for  peace  and  rec- 
onciliation ;  not  in  hatred,  but  in  love ;  not  by  a  fee- 
ble, erring,  ordinary  mortal,  but  by  Him  who  is  by  all  of 


Chap.  VI.]  THE    BLOOD.  133 

US  acknowledged  to  be  the  Ideal  of  man  and  tlie  Like- 
ness of  God.  It  is,  therefore,  this  final  and  supreme  test 
idi  our  love  and  loj^alty  that  the  cup  of  the  Eucharist 
suggests  —  our  willingness,  if  so  be,  to  sacrifice  our  own 
selves,  to  shed  our  own  blood  for  what  we  believe  to  be 
right  and  true  and  for  the  good  of  others. 

And  secondly,  the  use  of  wine  to  repi-esent  the  blood 
—  that  is,  the  love  —  of  Christ,  conveys  to  us  the  pro- 
found thought  that  as  wine  makes  glad  the  heart  ^he  enthu- 
of  man,  so  the  love  of  God,  the  love  of  Christ,  ^'^'""• 
the  love  of  man  for  God  and  men,  makes  glad  the  heart 
of  those  who  come  within  its  invigorating,  enkindling  in- 
fluence. In  that  fierce  war  waged  in  the  fifteenth  cent- 
ury by  the  Bohemian  nation  in  order  to  regain  the  use 
of  the  sacramental  wine  which  the  Roman  Church  had 
forbidden,  when  they  recovered  the  use  of  it,  the  sacred 
cup  or  chalice  was  henceforth  carried  as  a  trophy  in  front 
of  their  armies.  With  them  it  was  a  mere  pledge  of 
their  ecclesiastical  triumph,  a  token  of  their  national  in- 
dependence. But  with  us,  when  we  turn  from  the  out- 
ward thing  to  the  thing  signified,  it  is  only  too  true  that 
Catholics  and  Protestants  alike  have  lost  the  cup  from 
their  Communion  feasts.  If,  as  we  have  said,  the  blood 
of  Christ,  of  which  the  sacred  wine  is  the  emblem,  in 
itself  signifies  the  self-denying,  life-giving  love  ^  of  Christ, 
have  not  we  often  lost  from  our  lives  and  our  ordinances 
that  which  is  the  life  of  all  Christian  life,  and  the  wine 
of  all  Christian  ordinances  —  namely,  the  love  or  charity 
"  without  which  whosoever  liveth  is  counted  dead  before 
God  ?  "  Whosoever  regains  that  chalice,  whosoever  pours 
that  new  wine  into  our  dead  hearts,  may  well  bear  it  as 
a  trophy  before  the  Christian  armies.  The  ground  on 
which  the  Roman  Church  withheld  the  literal  wine  from 

^  George  Herbert :  — 

Love  is  that  liquor  sweet  and  most  divine, 
Which  my  God  feels  as  blood,  and  I  as  wine. 


134  THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD,  [Chap.  VI. 

all  but  the  officiating  priest  was  the  scruple  lest  the  ma- 
terial liquid  might  possibly  be  spilled.  Our  ground  for 
insisting  on  the  cup  for  the  laity  ought  to  be  that  the 
Divine  charity  of  which  the  cup  of  the  Communion  is 
the  emblem  belongs  to  the  whole  Church.  To  recover 
that  holy  cup,  that  real  life-blood  of  the  Redeemer,  is  a 
quest  worthy  of  all  the  chivalry  of  our  time,  worthy  of 
all  the  courage  of  Lancelot,"  worthy  of  all  the  purity 
of  Galahad. 

This  is  the  wine  of  that  heavenly  enthusiasm  of  which 
a  Persian  sage  sang  of  old:  "  Bring  me  a  cup  of  wine, 
not  that  wine  which  drives  away  wisdom,  but  that  un- 
mixed wine  whose  hidden  foi'ce  vanquishes  fate  —  that 
clear  wine  which  sanctifies  the  garb  of  the  heart  —  that 
illuminating  wine  which  shows  to  lovers  of  the  world  the 
true  path  —  that  purifying  wine  which  cleanses  the  med- 
itative mind  from  fanciful  thoughts."  ^  This  is  indeed 
the  likeness  of  the  blood  which  spoke  better  things  than 
the  blood  of  Abel,  because  it  was  not  the  mere  material 
blood  of  an  innocent  victim,  but  it  was,  and  is,  the  aspir- 
ing love  and  life  which  sank  not  into  the  ground,  but 
rose  again  to  be  the  love  and  life  of  a  regenerated  world. 

And  this  leads  us  to  ask  yet  one  more  question.  What 
is  the  moral  effect  of  this  life-blood  of  the  Christian 
The  ciean-s-  Spirit  ?  The  auswer  is  given  by  St.  John  (1 
"'^'  John   i.   7,  9)  :  "  It  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin," 

or,  as  is  said  in  the  words  just  following,  "  cleanseth  us 
from  all  unrighteousness,'"  from  all  injustice ,u7iequal  deal- 
ing, iniquity.  This  figure  of  cleansing  or  washing,  which 
occurs  often  in  the  Bible  in  this  connection  with  blood, 
seems  to  be  taken  not  so  much  from  tlie  Hebrew  worship 
as  from  the  Mithraic  or  Persian  sacrifices  then  so  com- 
mon, in  which  the  worshippers  were  literally  bathed  in 
a  stream  of  blood,  not  merely  sprinkled  or  touched,  but 

'  Sacred  Anthology,  p.  167. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  135 

plunged  from  bead  to  foot  as  in  a  baptism  of  blood. 
The  figure  in  itself  is  revolting.  But  its  very  strange- 
ness throws  us  far  away  from  the  sign  to  the  reality.  It 
means  that  where  any  soul  is  imbued  with  a  love,  a 
charity  like  that  of  Christ,  surrounded,  bathed  in  this  as 
in  a  holy  atmosphere,  withdrawn  by  the  contemplation 
of  His  death  and  by  the  spirit  of  His  life  from  all  the 
corrupting  influences  of  the  world  or  the  Church,  there 
the  sin,  the  hatred,  the  uncharitableness,  the  untruthful- 
ness of  men  are  purified  and  washed  away.  So  far  as 
the  blood  —  that  is,  the  self-sacrificing  love  —  of  Christ 
effects  this,  so  far  it  has  done  its  work  ;  so  far  as  it 
has  not  done  this,  it  has  been  shed  in  vain.  It  is  said 
that  a  young  English  soldier  of  gay  and  dissolute  life 
was  once  reading  this  chapter  of  St.  John,  and  when  he 
came  to  the  passage  —  "  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  .... 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin  "  —  he  started  up  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  Then  henceforth  I  will  live,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  as  a  man  should  live  who  has  been  washed  in 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ."  ^  That  was  Hedley  Vicars. 
And  by  this  thought  he  lived  thenceforth  a  pure  and 
spotless  life.  That  was  indeed  to  be  "  cleansed  by  the 
blood  of  Christ."  It  was  an  example  the  more  striking, 
because  probably  unconscious,  of  the  true  meaning  of  the 
cleansing  effect  of  "the  blood"  —  that  is,  the  unselfish 
life  and  death  —  of  Christ.  Cleansing,  bathing,  washing 
—  these,  of  coui"se,  are  figures  of  speech  when  applied 
to  the  soul.  But  they  must  mean  for  the  soul  what  is 
meant  by  cleansing  as  applied  to  the  body.  When,  for 
example,  we  pray  with  the  Psalmist,  "  Make  clean  our 
hearts  within   us,"  we   pray  that   our  motives  may  be 

1  The  belief  that  a  bath  of  blood  has  a  purifj'ing  effect  appears  from  time  to 
time  in  the  stories  of  kings,  suffering  from  dreadful  maladies,  bathing  them- 
selves in  the  blood  of  children  —  Pharaoh  (Midrash  on  Ex.  ii.  23),  Constantine, 
Charles  IX.  of  France.  For  this  reason  baptism  was  often  said  to  be  "in  the 
blood  of  Christ."     See  Wilberforce,  Doctrine  of  the  Eucharist,  p.  228. 


136  THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

made  free  from  all  those  by-ends  and  self-regards  that 
spoil  even  some  of  the  finest  natures.  When  the  prophet 
said  that  our  sins  should  be  made  "  as  white  as  wool," 
he  meant  that  so  great  is  the  power  of  the  human  will, 
and  of  tlie  grace  of  God,  that  the  human  character  can 
be  transformed  —  that  the  soul  which  once  was  stained 
deep  with  the  red  spots  of  sin  can  become  white  as 
driven  snow.  When  we  speak  of  Christ  Himself  as  the 
spotless  immaculate  Lamb,  we  mean  that  He  was  really 
without  spot  of  si-n.  When  we  speak  of  ourselves  as 
washed  in  the  blood  of  that  Lamb,  we  ought  to  mean 
not  that  we  continue  "  just  as  we  were,"  with  a  clean- 
ness imputed  to  us  in  which  our  characters  have  no 
share,  but  that  our  uncharitableness,  our  untruthfulness, 
our  cowardice,  our  vulgarity,  our  unfairness,  are,  so  far 
as  human  infirmity  will  permit,  washed  out.  When  in 
one  part  of  the  Englisli  Communion  Service  we  pray 
that  our  souls  may  be  washed  in  the  blood  of  Christ,  it 
is  the  same  prayer  as  in  substance  we  pray  in  that  other 
collect  in  another  part  of  the  same  office  which  John 
Wesley  declared  to  be  ^  the  summary  of  the  primitive 
religion  of  love,  the  summary  of  the  religion  of  the 
Church  of  England :  "  Cleanse  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts 
by  the  inspiration  of  Thy  Holy  Sj)irit,  that  we  may  per- 
fectly love  Thee  and  worthily  magnify  Thy  holy  name." 
When,  in  the  well-known  hymns  which  are  often  sung 
in  excited  congregations,  we  speak  of  "  the  fountain  filled 
with  blood  drawn  from  EmmanueFs  veins,  where  sin- 
ners plunged  beneath  that  flood  lose  all  their  guilty 
stains,"  these  passages,  unless  they  are  only  figures  with- 
out substance,  must  be  the  prayer  which  goes  up  from 
every  soul  which  feels  the  desire  to  be  cleansed  from  all 
those  defilements  of  passion  or  falsehood  or  self-conceit 
or  hatred  which  will  doubtless  cling  to  us  more  or  less 

1  Wesley's  Sermons,  vol.  iii.  p.  42i. 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  137 

to  the  end  of  our  mortal  life,  but  disappear  in  propor- 
tion as  we  are  bathed  in  the  Spirit  of  eternal  love  and 
purity.  It  is  the  same  prayer  as  that  which  is  expressed 
in  more  refined  and  chastened  language  by  our  own  liv- 
ing Laureate  in  his  poem  on  St.  Agnes :  — 

Make  thou  my  spirit  pure  and  clear 
As  are  the  frosty  skies ; 

or  in  the  yet  sublimer  invocation  of  Milton  to  Him  who 
prefers 

Before  all  temples  the  upright  heart  and  pure. 

But  perhaps  we  ought  still  to  ask  —  How  is  it  that  the 
love  of  Christ,  which  is  the  love  of  man  and  the  love  of 
God,  and  which  is  the  life-blood  of  the  Christian  religion 
—  how  is  it  that  this  love  cleanses  and  purifies  the  char- 
acter? Why  is  it,  more  than  justice  or  truth  or  cour- 
age, desci'ibed  as  the  regenerating  element  of  the  human 
heart  ?  To  do  this  at  length  would  be  beyond  our  limits. 
In  a  philosophic  sense  it  is  well  drawn  out  in  Butler's 
Sermon  on  the  Love  of  God.  With  all  the  energy  of  an 
impassioned  and  devout  soul  it  is  drawn  out  in  the  ser- 
mons and  letters  of  Charles  Kingsley.  But  still,  in  order 
to  show  that  we  are  not  merely  dealing  in  generalities, 
take  some  of  the  special  forms  in  which  true  affection  has 
this  effect  in  human  life.  Take  gratitude.  We  have 
known  some  one  who  has  done,  us  a  lasting  service.  We 
wish  to  repay  the  kindness.  In  ninety-nine  cases  out  of 
a  hundred  we  cannot  repay  it  better  than  by  showing 
that  we  are  worthy  of  it.  We  have,  by  the  exertions  of 
such  a  good  friend,  been  placed  in  a  good  situation  or  set 
in  a  good  way  of  life.  We  keep  in  mind  the  effect  wliich 
our  good  or  evil  conduct  will  have  on  them.  It  will 
wound  them  to  the  quick  if  we  deceive  or  disappoint  tlieir 
expectations.  It  will  be  as  sunshine  to  their  life  if  we  do 
credit  to  their  recommendation.  The  boy  at  school,  tlie 
public  officer  ministering  for  the  public  good,  the  private 


138  THE   BODY   AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

clerk  in  some  responsible  situation,  the  servant  in  a  house- 
hold great  or  small,  may  have  always  before  them  the 
image  of  their  benefactor.  The  love,  the  gratitude,  which 
they  bear,  or  ought  to  bear,  towards  him,  Avill  cleanse  and 
purify  their  hearts.  If  he  or  she  is  still  living,  we  may 
think  what  it  would  be  to  meet  them  with  an  open  or  a 
shame-stricken  countenance.  The  love  which  they  have 
shown  to  us,  and  the  gratitude  we  feel,  will  drive  out  the 
evil  spirit. 

Or,  again,  gratitude  for  some  great  benefit,  "say  a  re- 
covery from  illness.  It  may  have  been  a  recover}'  for 
which  many  have  anxiously  watched  —  a  recovery  which 
has,  as  it  were,  given  us  a  new  lease  of  life.  He  "who  re- 
sponds to  that  experience  will  have  his  heart  softened, 
opened,  cleansed.  That  heart  which  refuses  to  be  softened, 
opened,  and  cleansed,  after  such  an  experience,  must  be 
as  hard  as  the  nether  millstone.  Such  a  one,  wherever 
he  may  be,  if  indeed  he  has  so  little  of  the  grateful  sense 
of  good  received,  has  trodden  under  foot  the  love  of  "  the 
everlasting  covenant  "  which  nature  as  well  as  grace  has 
made  between  man  and  man,  between  man  and  God. 

Or,  again,  the  love,  the  pure  affections,  of  home.  We 
sometimes  hear  it  said  that  during  the  last  few  years  the 
bonds  of  English  society  are  relaxed,  the  fountains  of  Eng- 
lish moralit}'^  poisoned  —  that  things  are  talked  of,  and 
tolerated,  and  practised,  which  in  the  former  generation 
would  have  been  despised,  condemned,  and  put  down. 
Against  these  defiling,  destroying,  devastating  influences, 
what  is  the  safeguard  ?  It  is  surely  the  maintenance,  the 
encouragement,  of  that  pure  domestic  love  of  which  we 
just  now  spoke.  Dr.  Chalmers  used  to  preach  of  the  ex- 
pulsive force  of  a  neiv  affection.  But  it  is  enough  for  our 
purpose  to  have  the  expulsive  force  of  an  old  affection  — 
of  that  old,  very  old  affection  whicli  lies  in  the  vitals  of 
human  society,  which  is  truly  its  life-blood  —  the  affec- 


Chap.  VI.]  THE    BLOOD.  139 

tion  of  son  for  father  and  mother,  of  husband  for  wife 
and  of  wife  for  husband,  of  brother  for  sister  and  of  sis- 
ter for  brother.  Such  an  element  of  affection  is  the  salt 
of  the  national  existence,  is  the  continuation  of  the  re- 
membrance of  that  sacred  blood  of  which  we  are  told  "  to 
drink  and  be  thankful."  He  who  turns  his  back  on  these 
home  affections  has  left  himself  open  to  become  the  prey, 
whether  in  the  upper  or  the  lower  classes,  of  the  basest 
and  vilest  of  men,  of  the  basest  and  vilest  of  women. 

Or,  again,  the  love  of  our  country,  or,  if  we  prefer  so 
to  put  it,  the  love  of  the  public  good.  It  is  no  fancy  to 
call  these  feelings  by  so  strong  a  name.  They  who  have 
felt  it  know  that  it  is  a  passion  which  cheers  us  amidst 
the  greatest  difficulties,  which  consoles  us  even  in  the 
deepest  private  calamities.  And  it  is  a  passion  in  the 
presence  of  which  the  meaner  trivialities  of  existence 
wither  and  perish.  It  is  a  passion  in  the  absence  of  which 
there  grows  up  falsehood,  and  intrigue,  and  vulgar  inso- 
lence, and  selfish  ambition  and  rancorous  faction.  It  was 
a  passion  which  animated  our  great  statesmen  of  times 
gone  by — Chatham,  Pitt,  Fox,  Canning,  Wellington, 
and  Peel.  It  was  a  passion  which  once  cleansed  our 
Augean  stable,  which  flowed  like  a  generous  wine  through 
the  veins  of  the  Commonwealth  and  to  the  extremities 
of  society.  Whether  it  is  now  more  or  less  potent  than 
it  was  then,  whether  the  public  service  of  the  state  is 
sought  after,  or  the  great  questions  of  the  day  taken  up, 
more  or  less  than  formerly,  from  the  large  and  sincere 
conviction  of  their  truth  and  their  goodness,  or  only,  or 
chiefly,  for  temporary  or  personal  purposes,  let  those  an- 
swer who  best  know.  Only,  whenever  this  lofty  passion 
shall  cease  in  the  high  places  of  our  land,  then  the  end  is 
not  far  off  ;  then  the  blood  of  patriots  will  have  been 
wasted,  the  blood  of  heroes  and  of  martyrs  will  have  been 
shed  in  vain  ;  and  with  the  decay  of  public  spirit  and  of 


140  THE  BODY  AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

the  affection  of  our  best  citizens  for  our  common  countr^^ 
the  moral  health  and  strength  of  State  and  of  Church,  of 
statesmen  and  of  private  men,  will  dwindle, '  pale,  and 
pine  as  surely  as  a  sickly  frame  through  which  the  life- 
blood  has  ceased  to  permeate. 

These  are  some  of  the  examples  of  the  way  in  which 
single  disinterested  affection  for  what  is  good  makes  all 
duties  easy  and  all  vices  difficult,  and  so  fulfils  the  law 
of  God.  For  the  purification  thus  effected  by  the  love  of 
friends,  home,  and  country  is  the  likeness  of  what  may 
be  effected  by  that  love  through  which  the  Supreme 
Goodness  comes  down  to  earth,  and  through  which  our 
imperfect  goodness  ascends  to  heaven. 

In  this  brief  summary  of  the  Biblical  meaning  of  the 
words  "  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ,"  it  has  been  intended 
not  so  much  to  run  counter  to  any  metaphysical  theories 
on  the  Eucharist,  as  to  indicate  that  the  only  important 
significance  to  be  attached  to  the  Biblical  words  belongs 
to  a  region  which  those  theories  hardly  touch,  and  which, 
therefore,  may  be  treated  beyond  and  apart  from  most 
of  the  controversies  on  the  subject.  In  some  phrases  of 
the  Roman  Missal,  and  perhaps  still  more  in  parts  of  the 
Roman  practice,  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  the  impression 
that  a  magical  process  is  implied  of  material  particles 
touching  the  mind  as  though  it  were  matter.  This  ac- 
cordingly became  synonymous  with  the  most  vulgar  form 
of  sleight  of  hand.  The  sacred  phrase  of  ''  Hoc  est  cor- 
pus "  by  a  natural  descent  was  corrupted  into  "hocus 
pocus."  The  obligation  of  fasting  before  the  Commun- 
ion has  been  confirmed,  if  not  originated,  by  the  notion 
that  the  matter  of  the  sacramental  substance  might  meet 
the  matter  of  ordinary  food  in  the  process  of  physical  di- 
gestion. In  the  Communion  Offices  of  the  Reformed 
Churches,  including  the  English,  traces  of  these  material 


Chap.  VI.]  THE   BLOOD.  141 

traditions  linger,  and  the  higher  purpose  of  moral  im- 
provement originally  implied  in  the  words  has  perhaps 
been  also  thrown  into  the  background  by  the  prominence 
of  the  historical  and  commemorative  element.  Still, 
even  in  the  Roman  Office,  and  much  more  in  the  Prot- 
testant  Offices,  the  moral  element  is  found,  and  probably, 
to  the  more  enlightened  members  of  all  Churches,  the 
idea  is  never  altogether  absent,  that  the  main  object  of 
the  Eucharist  is  the  moral  improvement  of  the  commu- 
nicants. Nevertheless,  it  is  necessary  to  bring  out  as 
strongly  as  possible  this  moral  element  as  the  primary,  it 
is  hardly  too  much  to  say  the  sole,  meaning  of  the  words 
on  which  the  institution  of  the  Eucharist  is  founded.  It 
may  be  that  the  moral  intention  of  these  sacred  phrases 
and  acts  is,  unconsciously,  if  not  consciously,  so  deeply 
imbedded  in  their  structure  as  to  render  any  such  exposi- 
tion unnecessary.  It  may  be  that  the  signs,  the  shadows, 
the  figures  have  been  or  shall  be  so  raised  above  what 
is  local,  material,  and  temporary,  that  they  shall  be  almost 
inseparable  from  the  moral  improvement  which  alone  is 
the  true  food,^  the  true  health  of  the  soul.  But  possibly 
the  materialism  of  the  ecclesiastical  sacristy,  keeping  pace 
with  the  materialism  of  the  philosophic  school,  may  so  un- 
dermine the  spiritual  element  of  this  —  almost  the  only  ex- 
ternal ordinance  of  Christianity  —  as  to  endanger  the  or- 
dinance itself.  Possibly  the  carnal  and  material  may  so 
absorb  and  obliterate  the  spiritual  that  it  will  be  necessary 
in  the  name  of  Religion  to  expect  some  change  in  the  out- 
ward forms  of  the  sacrament,  not  less  incisive  than  those 
which  in  former  ages  by  the  general  instinct  of  Christen- 
dom swept  away  those  parts  which  have  now  perished  for- 
ever. Infant  Communion,  once  universal  throughout  the 
whole  Church,  and  still  retained  in  the  East,  has  been  for- 

1  There  is  a  striking  passage  in  Fenelon  to  the  effect  that  the  true  food  of  the 
soul  is  moral  goodness.     Meditations  on  the  Sixteenth  Day. 


142  THE    BODY   AND   BLOOD.  [Chap.  VI. 

bidden  througliout  the  whole  Western  C Inarch,  Catholic 
and  Protestant  alike.  Daily  Communion,  universal  in  the 
primitive  Church,  has  for  the  vast  majority  of  Christians 
been  discontinued  both  in  East  and  West.  Evening  Com- 
munion, the  original  time  of  the  ordinance,  has  been  for- 
bidden by  the  Roman  Church.  Solitary  Communion 
has  been  forbidden  in  the  English  Church.  Death-bed 
Communion  has  been  forbidden  in  the  Scottish  Church. 
It  is  difficult  to  imagine  changes,  short  of  total  abolition, 
more  sweeping  than  these.  But  yet  they  were  induced 
by  the  repugnance  of  the  higher  instinct  of  Christendom 
to  see  its  most  sacred  ceremony  degraded  into  a  charm. 
It  is  possible  that  the  metaphors  of  the  Bible  on  this 
subject  shall  be  felt  to  have  been  so  misused  and  distorted 
tliat  they  also  shall  pass  into  the  same  abeyance  as  has 
already  overtaken  some  expressions  which  formerly  were 
no  less  dear  to  pious  hearts  than  these.  The  use  of  the 
language  of  the  Canticles,  such  as  was  familiar  to  St. 
Bernard  and  Samuel  Rutherford,  has  become  impossible, 
and  many  terms  used  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles  to  the  Romans 
and  Galatians  on  Predestination  and  Justification  are  now 
but  very  rarely  heard  in  ordinary  pulpits.  But,  what- 
ever betide,  it  is  alike  the  duty  and  the  hope,  whether  of 
those  who  fondly  cling  to  these  forms  or  words,  or  of 
those  who  think,  perhaps  too  boldly,  that  they  can  dis- 
pense with  them,  to  keep  steadily  in  view  the  moral  real- 
ities, for  the  sake  of  which  alone  (if  Christianity  be  the 
universal  religion)  such  forms  exist,  and  which  will  sur- 
vive the  disappearance  even  of  the  most  venerable  ordi- 
nances, even  of  the  most  sacred  phrases. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ABSOLUTION. 

It  is  well  known  that  in  certain  parts  of  Christendom, 
and  in  certain  sections  of  the  English  Church,  consider- 
able importance  is  attached  to  the  words  which  appear 
in  the  Gospels  of  St.  Matthew  and  St.  John,  as  justifying 
the  paramount  duty  of  all  Christians  to  confess  their 
sins  to  presbyters,  who  have  received  episcopal  ordina- 
tion, and  the  exclusive  right  of  presbyters,  so  appointed, 
to  absolve  them. 

It  is  not  here  intended  to  enter  on  the  various  objec- 
tioiis  raised  on  moral  grounds  to  this  theory.  But  it 
may  be  useful  to  show  the  original  meaning  of  the  words, 
and  then  trace  their  subsequent  history.  It  will  be  then 
seen  that,  whatever  other  grounds  there  may  be  for  the 
doctrine  or  practice  in  question,  these  passages  have 
either  no  relation  to  it,  or  that  whatever  relation  they 
have  is  the  exact  contradiction  of  the  theory  in  question. 

The  texts  are  (in  English)  as  follows  :  — 

The  address  to  Peter  (Matt.  xvi.  19)  :  "  Whatsoever 
thou  shalt  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven  :  and 
whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  in 
heaven." 

The  address  to  the  disciples  (Matt,  xviii.  18)  :  "  What- 
soever ye  shall  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven  : 
and  whatsoever  ye  shall  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  in 
heaven." 

The  address  to  the  disciples  (John  xx.  23)  :  "  Whose- 
soever sins  ye  remit,  they  are  remitted  unto  them  :  and 
whosesoever  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained." 


144  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

We  will  first  take  the  two  passages  in  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Matthew.  For  the  purposes  of  this  argument  the 
words  addressed  to  St.  Peter  need  not  be  distinguished 
from  the  words  addressed  to  the  disciples,  as  they  are  in 
each  case  identically  the  same.^ 

I.  The  phrase  "binding"  and  "loosing"  meant,  in  the 
language  of  the  Jewish  schools,  declaring  what  is  right 
Binding  and  ^^^^  what  is  wrong.  If  any  Master,  or  Rabbi, 
loosing.  Q^,  Judge,  declared  a  thing  to  be  right  or  true, 
he  was  said  to  have  loosed  it ;  if  he  declared  a  thing  to  be 
wrong  or  false,  he  was  said  to  have  bound  it.  That  this 
is  the  original  meaning  of  the  words  has  been  set  at  rest 
beyond  possibility  of  question  since  the  decisive  quota- 
tions given  by  the  most  learned  Hebrew  scholars  of  the 
seventeenth  century.^  The  meaning,  therefore,  of  the 
expressions,  as  addressed  to  the  first  disciples,  was  that, 
humble  as  they  seemed  to  be,  yet,  by  virtue  of  the  new 
spiritual  life  and  new  spiritual  insight  which  Christ 
brought  into  the  world,  their  decisions  in  cases  of  right 
and  wrong  would  be  invested  with  all  and  more  than  all 
the  authority  which  had  belonged  before  to  the  Masters 
of  the  Jewish  Assemblies,  to  the  Rulers  and  Teachers 
of  the  Synagogues,  It  was  the  same  promise  as  was  ex- 
pressed in  substance  in  those  other  well-known  passages : 
"  It  is  not  ye  that  speak,  but  the  Spirit  of  My  Father 
which  speaketh  in  you."  "  He  that  is  sjDiritual  judgeth 
all  things."  "  Ye  have  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One, 
and  ye  know  all  things,  and  need  not  that  any  one  should 
teach  you."  "  The  Comforter  shall  lead  you  into  all 
truth." 

The  sense  thus  given  is  as  adequate  to  the  occasion  as 

1  For  their  peculiar  meaning  as  addressed  to  St.  Peter,  it  may  be  permitted  to 
refer  to  a  volume  published  many  years  ago,  entitled  Sermons  and  Essays  on 
the  Apostolic  Age,  pp.  127-34. 

2  "Hebrew  and  Talmudical  Exercitations  upon  the  Evangelist  St.  Matthew 
(xvi.  19).     By  John  Lightfoot,  D.  D."      Works,  vol.  ii.  pp.  206-7. 


Chap.  VII.]  BINDING   AND   LOOSING.  145 

it  is  certainly  true.  In  the  new  crisis  through  which  the 
world  was  to  pass,  they  —  the  despised  schohirs  of  a  de- 
spised Master  —  were  to  declare  what  was  changeable 
and  what  was  unchangeable,  what  was  eternul,  what  was 
transitory,  what  was  worthy  of  approval,  and  what  was 
worthy  of  condemnation.  They  were  to  declare  the  in- 
nocence of  a  thousand  customs  of  the  Gentile  world, 
which  their  Jewish  countrymen  had  believed  to  be  sin- 
ful ;  they  were  to  declare  the  exceeding  sinf uhiess  of  a 
thousand  acts  which  both  Jews  and  Pagans  had  believed 
to  be  virtuous  or  indifferent.  They  were  empowered  to 
announce  with  unswerving  confidence  the  paramount  im- 
portance of  charity,  and  the  supreme  preciousness  of 
truth.  They  w^ere  empowered  to  denounce  with  unspar- 
ing condemnation  the  meanness  of  selfishness,  the  sacri- 
lege of  impurity,  the  misery  of  self-deceit,  the  impiety 
of  uncharitableness.  And  what  the  first  generation  of 
Christians,  to  whom  these  words  were  addressed,  thus 
decided,  has  on  the  whole  been  ratified  in  heaven  —  has 
on  the  whole  been  ratified  by  the  voice  of  Providence 
in  the  subsequent  history  of  mankind.  By  this  discern- 
ment of  good  and  evil  the  Apostolic  writers  became  the 
lawgivers  of  the  civilized  world.  Eighteen  hundred 
years  have  passed,  and  their  judgments  in  all  essential 
points  have  never  been  reversed. 

The  authority  or  the  accuracy  of  portions  of  the  New 
Testament  on  this  or  that  point  is  often  disputed.  The 
grammar,  the  arguments,  the  history  of  the  authors  of 
the  Gospels  and  Epistles  can  often  be  questioned.  But 
that  which  must  govern  us  all  —  their  declaration  of  the 
moral  standard  of  mankind,  the  ideal  they  have  placed 
before  us  of  that  which  is  to  guide  our  conduct  —  which 
is,  after  all,  as  has  been  said  by  Matthew  Arnold,  three 
fourths  of  human  life  —  has  hardly  been  questioned  at 
all  by  the  intelligent  and  upright  part  of  mankind.     The 

10 


146  ABSOLUTION.  [Ch.u-.  Vll 

condemnation  of  sins,  the  commendation  of  graces,  in 
St.  Matthew's  description  of  the  Beatitudes,  in  St.  Luke's 
description  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  in  St.  John's  description 
of  the  conversation  with  the  woman  of  Samaria,  in  St. 
Peter's  declaration  that  in  every  land  "  he  that  worketh 
righteousness  (of  whatever  creed  or  race)  is  accepted  of 
God,"  in  St.  Paul's  description  o£  charity,  in  St.  James's 
description  of  pure  religion  —  have  commanded  the  en- 
tire assent  of  the  world,  of  Bolingbroke  and  Voltaire  no 
less  than  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  and  Wesley,  because  these 
moral  judgments  bear  on  their  face  that  stamp  of  the 
divine,  the  superhuman,  the  truly  supernatural,  which 
critical  inquiry  cannot  touch,  which  human  wisdom  and 
human  folly  alike,  whilst  they  may  be  unwilling  or  una- 
ble to  fulfil  the  precepts,  yet  cannot  deny.  This  is  the 
original  meaning  in  which  the  judgments  of  the  first 
Christians  in  regard  to  sin  and  virtue  were  ratified  in 
heaven.  It  is  necessary  to  insist  on  this  point  in  order 
to  show  that  an  amply  sufiicieut  force  and  solemnity  is 
inherent  in  the  proper  meaning  of  the  words,  without 
resorting  to  fictitious  modes  of  aggrandizing  them  in  di- 
rections for  which  they  were  not  intended. 

The  signification  of  the  phrase  in  John  xx.  23,  trans- 
lated in  the  Authorized  Version  "remitting  and  retain- 
ing sins,"  is  not  equally  clear.  The  words  used 
and  retain-  (dc^te'taf,  i'c^ecris)  do  uot  of  uccessity  uieau  the  dec- 
ingMus.  l;ivation  of  the  innocence  or  lawfulness  of  any 
particular  act;  still  less  does  the  corresponding  phrase 
(K/jaTcii)  necessarily  mean  the  declaration  of  its  unlawful- 
ness. It  may  be  that  the  words  rendered  "remit  sin  "are 
(as  in  Mark  i.  4;  Luke  iii.  3)  equivalent  to  the  abolition 
or  dismissal  of  sin,  and  it  would  be  the  natural  meaning  of 
the  word  rendered  "  retain  sin  "  that  it  should  signify,  as 
in  all  the  other  passages  of  the  New  Testament  where  it 
occurs,  "to  control,"  "conquer,"  "  subdue  sin."     In  that 


Chap.  VII.]         REMITTING  AND   RETAINING   SINS.  147 

case  the  words  would  describe,  not  the  intellectual  or  di- 
dactic side  of  the  Apostolic  age,  but  its  moral  and  prac- 
tical side,  and  would  correspond  to  numerous  other  pas- 
sages, such  as,  "  Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you  ;  " 
"  If  ye  will  say  unto  this  mountain,  Be  thou  removed 
and  be  thou  cast  into  the  sea,  it  shall  be  done ;  "  "  Ho 
that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted  ;  "  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  have  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these  My  brethren,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  Me;  "  "Greater  works  than  these  shall 
ye  do ; "  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world ; " 
"  Sanctify  them  through  Thy  truth  ; "  "  My  grace  is  suf- 
ficient for  thee  ;  "  "  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ 
that  strengtheneth  me;"  "He  that  overcometh  and  keep- 
eth  My  words  unto  the  end,  to  him  will  I  give  power 
over  the  nations."  If  this  assurance  of  the  moral  vic- 
tory of  the  Apostolic  age  over  sin  be  the  meaning  of  the 
phrases,  then  here  also  it  may  be  affirmed,  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that,  on  the  whole,  and  with  the  neces- 
sary reserves  of  human  imperfection,  the  moral  superior- 
ity of  the  first  age  of  Christendom  to  those  which  pre- 
ceded and  those  which  followed  was  very  remarkable, 
and  that  such  a  fulfilment  well  corresponded  to  the  sig- 
nificant act  of  the  breathing  of  the  spirit  of  goodness  or 
holiness  upon  those  to  whom  the  words  were  addressed. 
But  on  this  interpretation  we  need  not  insist.  It  is  nec- 
essary to  point  it  out  in  order  to  show  that  the  passage 
is  not  clear  from  ambiguity.  But  it  is  enough  if,  as  is 
commonly  supposed,  the  words,  by  some  peculiar  turn  of 
the  Fourth  Gospel,  are  identical  in  meaning  with  those 
in  St.  Matthew.  In  that  case  all  that  we  have  said  of 
the  address  to  Peter  and  the  address  to  the  disciples  in 
the  First  Gospel  applies  equally  to  this  address  in  the 
Fourth. 

II.  Such,  then,  was  the  promise  as  spoken  in  the  first 
instance.  In  the  literal  sense  of  the  words  this  fulfil- 
ment of  them  can  hardly  occur  again. 


148  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

No  other  book  of  equal  authority  with  the  New  Testa- 
ment has  ever  issued  from  mortal  pen.  No  epoch  has 
Universal  spoken  On  moral  questions  with  a  voice  so 
application.  pQ^erful  as  the  Apostolic  age.  Shakespeare, 
Milton,  Bacon,  and  Hegel  may  be  of  a  wider  range.  Yet 
they  do  not  rise  to  the  moral  dignity  of  the  best  parts 
of  the  New  Testament.  When  we  leave  the  purely  per- 
sonal and  historical  application  of  these  words,  then,  as 
in  all  our  Lord's  words  and  precepts,  the  whole  point  of 
the  words  is,  that  they  are  spoken,  not  to  any  one  person 
or  order  of  men,  or  succession  of  men,  but  to  the  whole 
Christian  community  of  all  time  —  to  any  in  that  com- 
munity that  partake  of  the  same  spirit,  and  in  propor- 
tion as  they  partake  of  the  same  moral  qualities  as  filled 
the  first  hearers  of  the  gospel.  When  it  is  sometimes 
alleged  that  the  promise  to  Peter  was  exclusively  ful- 
filled in  the  Bishops  of  Rome,  who,  centuries  afterwards, 
were  supposed  to  have  been  his  successors,  it  would  be 
just  as  reasonable,  or  we  may  say  just  as  unreasonable, 
as  to  say  that  all  the  Bishops  of  Ephesus  were  specially 
loved  by  Jesus  because  they  were  supposed  to  have  suc- 
ceeded St.  John  at  Ephesus.  What  the  most  learned 
and  the  most  gifted  of  all  the  Fathers,  Origen,^  said  of 
the  promise  to  St.  Peter  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  St. 
Matthew  is  at  once  the  best  proof  of  what  was  believed 
about  it  in  early  times,  and  also  the  best  explanation  of 
its  application  to  later  days  :  "  He  who  is  gifted  with 
self-control  enters  the  gate  of  heaven  by  the  key  of  self- 
control.  He  who  is  just  enters  the  gate  of  heaven  by 
the  key  of  justice.  The  Saviour  gives  to  those  who  are 
not  overcome  by  the  gates  of  hell  as  many  keys  as  there 
are  virtues.     Against  him  that  judges  unjustly,  and  docs 

1  Origen  on  Matt.  xvi.  19.  Comp.  ibid.  De  Orat.  c.  28.  An  instructive  col- 
lection of  similar  expressions  from  St.  Augustine  is  given  in  an  interesting  dis- 
sertation on  the  ancient  Makincj  of  Bishops,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Harrison,  vicar  of 
Fenwick. 


Chap.  VII.]  UNIVERSAL    APPLICATION.  149 

not  bind  on  earth  according  to  God's  word,  the  gates  of 
hell  prevail ;  but  against  whom  the  gates  of  hell  do  not 
prevail,  he  judges  justly.  If  any  who  is  not  Peter,  and 
has  not  the  qualities  here  mentioned,  believes  that  he 
can  bind  on  earth  like  Peter,  so  that  what  he  binds  is 
bound  in  heaven,  such  an  one  is  puffed  up,  not  knowing 
the  meaning  of  the  Scriptures." 

That  which  is  clear  in  the  case  of  the  promise  to  Peter 
is  still  more  clear  in  the  case  of  the  promise  in  Matt, 
xviii.  18,  and  John  xx.  23.  It  is  obvious  from  the  text 
in  John  xx.  23,  that  there  is  no  special  limitation  to  the 
Twelve.  For  at  the  meeting  spoken  of  some  of  the 
Twelve  were  not  there ;  Thomas  was  absent,  Matthias 
was  not  yet  elected,  Paul  and  Barnabas  were  not  yet 
called.  And  also  others  were  there  besides  the  Eleven, 
for  in  the  corresponding  passage  in  Luke  xxiv.  36-47,  it 
would  .appear  (if  we  take  the  narratives  in  their  literal 
meaning)  that  the  two  disciples  from  Emmaus,  who  were 
not  apostles,  were  present,  and  the  evangelist  here,  as 
throughout  his  whole  Gospel,  never  uses  any  other  word 
than  "  disciples."  What  is  thus  clear  from  the  actual 
passage  in  John  xx.  23,  is  yet  more  clear  from  the  con- 
text of  Matt,  xviii.  18.  There,  in  the  verses  immediately 
preceding,  phrase  is  heaped  on  phrase,  and  argument  on 
argument,  to  show  that  the  power  of  binding  and  loosing 
was  addressed,  not  to  any  particular  class  within  the 
circle  of  disciples,  but  to  the  whole  body  in  its  widest 
sense.  Our  Lord  is  there  speaking  of  the  forgiveness  of 
offences.  He  requires  the  contending  parties,  if  they 
cannot  agree,  to  hear  the  Church  —  that  is,  the  whole 
congregation  or  assembly ;  to  appeal,  as  it  were,  to  the 
popular  instinct  of  the  whole  community  ;  and  He  goes 
on  to  say  that,  if  even  tivo  agree  on  a  matter  of  this  kind, 
wherever  Uvo  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  His  name, 
there  is  He  in  the  midst  of  them.     These  passages,  in 


150  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VH. 

fact,  form  no  exception  to  the  universal  rule  of  our  Lord's 
discourses.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  as  He  said  Himself, 
"What  I  say  unto  you,  I  say  unto  all."  "Peter,"  as 
St.  Augustine  says,  "  represents  all  good  men,  and  the 
promise  in  St.  John  is  addressed  to  all  believers  every- 
where." "  These  words,"  says  a  living  divine,  "  like  the 
eyes  of  the  Lord,  look  every  way,  and  may  include  all 
forgiveness,  whenever  or  wheresoever  any  sins  are  re- 
mitted through  the  agency  of  men."  ^  They  belong  to 
the  same  class  of  precepts  as  "  Let  your  loins  be  girded 
and  your  lights  burning,"  "  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth," 
"  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world."  All  have  a  share  in 
their  meaning,  all  have  a  share  in  their  force,  in  propor- 
tion as  we  have  received  from  Heaven  any  portion  of 
that  inspiration  whereby  we  seek  "  to  do  and  to  think 
the  things  that  be  good."^ 

It  was  only  when  the  minds  of  men  had  become  con- 
fused by  the  introduction  of  limitations  and  alterations 
which  had  no  connection  with  the  original  words  that 
these  promises  and  precepts  began  to  change  their  mean- 
ing. The  ."  Church,"  which  once  had  meant  the  people, 
or  the  laity,  came  to  mean  the  clergy.  The  declaration, 
"  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world,"  was  understood  to  mean 
only  those  who  were  in  holy  orders.  The  promise  to 
Peter  came  to  be  strangely  confined  to  the  Italian  Prel- 
ates who  lived  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.  The  words  of 
St.  John's  Gospel,  which  had  originally  been  intended  to 
teach  the  mutual  edification  and  independent  insight  into 
divine  truth  of  all  who  were  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of 
Christ,  became  limited  to  the  second  of  the  three  orders 
of  the  Christian  ministry.  But  these  are  mei'ely  passing 
restrictions   and    mistakes.     The   general    truth    of    the 

1  Pusey  on  Absolution,  p.  32. 

2  Even  those  early  Christian  writers  who  restrict  these  words  to  a  particiihir 
act,  restrict  them  to  baptism;  and  baptism,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  ancient 
Church,  can  be  performed  by  any  one. 


Chap.  VII.]  INFLUENCE    OF    THE   LAITY.  151 

words  themselves  remains  unshaken  and  still  applicable 
to  the  general  growth  of  Christian  truth. 

The  practical  lesson  of  the  passages  is  that  which  has 
been  already  indicated  —  namely,  that  the  enlightening, 
elevating  power  of  the  Christian  conscience  is  not  con- 
fined to  any  profession  or  order,  however  sacred;  is  ex- 
ercised not  in  virtue  of  any  hereditary  or  transmitted 
succession,  but  in  virtue  of  the  spiritual  discernment,  the 
insight  into  truth  and  character,  which  has  been  vouch- 
safed to  all  good  men,  to  all  Christians,  in  proportion  to 
their  goodness,  and  wisdom,  and  discernment.  This,  as 
Origen  says,  is  the  true  power  of  the  keys ;  a  power 
which  may  be  exercised,  and  which  is  exercised,  some- 
times by  the  teaching  of  a  faithful  pastor,  sometimes  by 
the  presence  of  an  innocent  child,  sometimes  by  the  ex- 
ample of  a  good  mother,  sometimes  by  the  warning  of  a 
true  friend,  sometimes  by  the  silent  glance  of  just  indig- 
nation, sometimes  by  the  reading  of  a  good  book  —  above 
all,  by  the  straightforward  honesty  of  our  own  individual 
consciences,  whether  in  dealing  with  ourselves  or  others. 

It  may  be  worth  while  here  again  to  recall  the  obvious 
processes  by  which  the  amelioration  of  mankind  has  taken 
place.  We  see  it  clearly  on  the  large  scale  of  Effect  of  the 
liistory.  Doubtless  there  have  been  long  periods  ^'^*'^" 
when  the  chief  enlightenment  of  the  world  has  come  from 
the  clergy.  In  most  Protestant  and  in  some  Catholic 
and  Greek  Churches  the  clergy,  as  a  class,  perhaps  still 
do  more  than  any  other  single  class  of  men  to  keep  alive 
a  sense  of  goodness  andtruth.  But  there  has  never  been 
a  time  when  the  laity  have  not  had  their  share  in  the 
guidance  of  the  Church  ;  and  in  proportion  as  Christian 
civilization  has  increased,  in  proportion  as  the  clergy  have 
done  their  duty  in  enlightening  and  teaching  others,  in 
that  proportion  the  Christian  influence,  the  binding  and 
the  loosing  power  of  all  good  and  gifted    men,  has  in- 


152  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  YIT. 

creased  —  in  that  proportion  has  the  principle  implied  in 
these  passages  received  a  deeper,  wider  signification. 

There  have  been  ages  when  the  clergy  were  coexten- 
sive with  the  educated  class  of  mankind,  and  were  thus 
the  chief  means  of  stimulating  and  purifying  the  moral 
standard  of  their  age.  But  at  all  time,  and  specially 
since  other  profession^  have  become  "clerks,"  —  that  is, 
scholars  and  instructors,  —  the  advancement  of  learning, 
the  opening  of  the  gates  of  heaven,  has  been  as  much  the 
work  of  the  Christian  Church  —  that  is,  of  the  laity —  as 
of  the  priesthood.  By  the  highest  rank  of  the  whole  pro- 
fession of  the  clergy  —  the  Pontificate  of  Rome  —  the  key 
of  knowledge  has  been  perhaps  wielded  less  than  by  any 
other  great  institution  in  Christendom.  Of  the  256  prel- 
ates who  have  filled  the  bishopric  of  Rome,  scarcely 
more  than  four  have  done  anything  by  their  writings  to 
enlarge  the  boundaries  of  knowledge  and  to  raise  the 
moral  perceptions  of  mankind  —  Leo  the  Great,  Gregory 
the  Great,  and  (in  a  higher  degree)  Benedict  XIV.  and 
Clement  XIV.  Occasional  acts  of  toleration  towards  the 
Jews,  the  rectification  of  the  calendar,  and  a  few  like  ex- 
amples of  enlightenment  may  be  adduced.  But,  as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  whatever  else  the  Popes  have  done,  they  have 
not,  in  the  Biblical  sense,  bound  or  loosed  the  moral 
duties  of  mankind. 

And,  again,  as  to  the  clergy  generally,  the  abolition  of 
slavery,  though  supported  by  many  excellent  ecclesiastics, 
yet  had  for  its  chief  promoters  the  laymen  Wilberforce 
and  Clarkson.  What  these  virtuous  and  gifted  men 
bound  on  earth  was  bound  in  heaven,  what  they  loosed 
on  earth  was  loosed  in  heaven,  not  because  they  had  or 
had  not  been  set  apart  for  a  special  office,  but  because 
they  had  received  a  large  measure  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God,  which  enabled  them  to  see  the  good  and  refuse  the 
evil  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived. 


Chap.  VII.]  INFLUENCE   OF   THE   LAITY.  153 

If  the  asj^irations  of  one  half  of  mediseval  Christen- 
dom after  goodness  were  guided  by  the  clerical  work  of 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  another  half  must  have  been  no  less 
elevated  by  the  lay  work  of  the  divine  poem  of  Dante. 
If  the  revelation  of  God  in  the  universe  was  partly  dis- 
covered by  Copernicus  the  ecclesiastic,  it  was  more  fully 
disclosed  by  the  labors  of  Galileo  the  layman,  which  the 
clergy  condemned.  If  the  religion  of  England  has  been 
fed  in  large  part  by  Hooker,  by  Butler,  by  Wesley,  and 
by  Arnold,  it  has  also  been  fed,  perhaps  in  a  yet  larger 
part,  by  Milton,  by  Bunyan,  by  Addison,  by  Cowper,  and 
by  Walter  Scott. 

If  we  study  the  process  by  which  false  notions  of  mo- 
rality and  religion  have  been  dispersed,  and  true  notions 
of  morality  and  religion  have  been  introduced,  from  Au- 
gustus to  Charlemagne,  from  Charlemagne  to  Luther, 
from  Luther  to  the  present  day  (as  unfolded  in  Mr. 
Lecky's  four  volumes),  we  shall  find  that  the  almost  uni- 
form law  by  which  the  sins  and  superstitions  of  Christen- 
dom have  been  bound  or  loosed  has  been,  first,  that  the 
action  of  some  one  conscience  or  some  few  consciences  — 
whether  of  statesmen,  students,  priests,  or  soldiers  — 
more  enlightened,  more  Christ-like,  than  their  fellows  — 
has  struck  a  new  light,  or  unwound  some  old  prejudice, 
or  opened  some  new  door  into  truth  ;  and  then,  that  this 
light  has  been  caught  up,  this  opening  has  been  widened 
by  the  gradual  advance  of  Christian  wisdom  and  knowl- 
edge in  the  mass. 

What  is  called  the  public  opinion^  of  any  age  may  be 
in  itself  as  misleading,  as  corrupt,  as  the  opinion  of  any 
individual.  It  must  be  touched,  corrected,  purified  by 
those  higher  intelligences  and  nobler  hearts,  which  catch 
the  light  as  mountain  summits  before  the  sunrise  has 
reached  the  plains.  But  it  is  only  when  the  light  has 
reached  the  plains,  only  when  public  opinion  has  become 


154   '  ABSOLUTION.  [CirAP.  VII. 

SO  elevated  by  the  action  of  the  few,  that  Providence 
affixes  its  seal  to  the  deed  —  that  the  binding  or  loosing 
is  ratified  in  heaven.  It  is  thus  that  Christian  pubhc 
opinion  is  formed  ;  and  when  it  is  formed,  the  sins,  which 
before  reigned  with  a  tyrannical  sway,  fade  away  and 
disappear. 

Such,  for  example,  was  the  drunkenness  of  the  upper 
classes  in  the  last  century.  It  penetrated  all  the  higher 
society  of  the  land.  But  when  by  a  few  resolute  wills, 
here  and  there,  now  and  then,  there  was  created  a  better 
and  purer  standard  of  morals  in  this  respect,  it  perished 
as  if  by  an  invisible  blow.  The  whole  of  educated  so- 
ciety had  placed  it  under  their  ban,  and  that  ban  was 
ratified  in  heaven  —  was  ratified  by  the  course  of  Provi- 
dence. It  is  this  same  public  opinion,  which,  if  it  can 
once  be  created  in  the  humbler  classes,  will  also  be  as 
powerful  there.  They  also  have,  if  they  will,  the  same 
power  of  retaining,  that  is,  of  imprisoning,  and  condemn- 
ing, and  exterminating  this  deadly  enemy  ;  and  by  this 
means  alone  \vill  it  disappear  from  them  as  it  has  disap- 
peared from  the  society  of  others  who  were  once  as  com- 
pletely slaves  to  it. 

So  again,  to  pass  to  quite  another  form  of  evil,  the 
violent  personal  scurrility  that  used  once  to  disgrace  our 
periodical  literature.  That,  as  a  general  rule,  has  almost 
entirely  disappeared  from  the  great  leading  journals  of 
the  day.  On  the  whole  they  are  temperately  expressed, 
and  conducted  with  reasonable  fairness.  The  public  has 
become  too  highly  educated  to  endure  the  coarseness  of 
former  times.  But  in  the  more  confined  organs  of  opinion 
the  old  Adam  still  lingers.  In  some  of  those  newspapers, 
which  are  called  by  a  figure  of  speech  our  religious  jour- 
nals, the  scurrility  and  personal  intolerance  which  once 
penetrated  the  great  secular  journals  still  abide.  That 
also,  we  may  trust,  will  gradually  vanish  as  the  religious 


Chap.  VII.]  ORDINATION.  155 

01'  ecclesiastical  world  becomes  more  penetrated  with  the 
true  spirit  of  Christianity  which  has  already  taken  pos- 
session of  the  lay  world. 

III.  It  might  be  enough,  for  the  purpose  of  this  argu- 
ment, to  have  pointed  out  the  original  meaning  of  the 
sacred  words,  and  their  correspondence  to  the  actual  facts 
of  history.  But  the  subject  could  not  be  completed  with- 
out touching,  however  slightly,  on  the  curious  limitation 
and  perversion  of  them  which  have  tiiken  place  in  later 
times.    This  has  in  great  part  arisen  fi"om  their 

,  .  .,         ,         T.  .,»  ,  1  •    i      Ordination. 

introduction  into  the  liturgical  lorms  by  which 
in  some  Christian  Churches  some  of  the  clergy  are  ap- 
pointed to  their  functions.  The  words  from  St.  John's 
Gospel  are  not,  nor  ever  have  been,  used  to  describe  the 
consecration  of  Bishops  or  Archbishops.^  They  are  not, 
nor  ever  have  been,  used  in  the  ordination  of  Deacons  — 
an  order  which,  in  the  fourth  century,  exercised  in  some 
respects  a  power  almost  equal  to  that  of  the  Episcopate, 
and  in  our  own  country  has  often  been  intrusted  with  the 
most  important  and  exclusively  pastoral  functions  —  of 
instruction,  visiting,  and  preaching.  Where  used,  they 
are  only  used  in  the  ordination  of  Presbyters  or  (as  in 
the  abridged  form  they  are  unfortunately  called)  Priests. 
And  even  for  this  limited  object  the  introduction  of  the 
words  is  comparatively  recent,  and  probably  the  result  of 
misconception.  It  is  certain  that  for  the  first  twelve  cen- 
turies they  were  never  used  for  the  ordination  of  any 
Christian  minister.  It  is  certain  that  in  the  whole  East- 
ern Church  they  are  never  used  at  all  for  this  purpose. 
It  was  not  till  the  thirteenth  century —  the  age  when  the 

1  In  the  English  Office  of  Consecrating  Bishops  and  Archbishops,  the  por- 
tion of  the  chapter  which  contains  those  words  is  one  of  the  three  alternative 
Gospels.  But  the  fact  that  it  is  an  alternative,  and  one  rarely  used,  shows  that 
it  is  not  regarded  as  essential.  They  are  also  incorporated  in  a  general  prayer 
in  the  Consecration  of  Bishops  first  found  in  the  Poitiers  Ordinal,  A.  D.  500,  re- 
printed by  Baronius  and  Martene.     It  is  contained  in  the  Roman  Pontifical. 


166  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

materialistic  theories  of  the  sacraments  and  the  extrava- 
gant pretensions  of  pontifical  and  sacerdotal  power  were 
at  their  height  —  that  they  were  first  introduced  into  the 
Ordinals  of  the  Latin  Church.  From  thence  they  were, 
at  the  Reformation,  retained  in  the  Ordination  Service  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  of  England,  and  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  of  Lutheran  Germany.^ 

The  retention  of  these  words  in  these  two  Churches 
may  have  been  occasioned  by  various  causes.  It  is  clear 
that  they  have  become  a  mere  stumbling-block  and  stone 
of  offence,  partly  as  unintelligible,  j)artly  as  giving  rise  to 
the  most  mistaken  conclusions.  Their  retention  is  con- 
fessedly not  in  conformity,  but  in  direct  antagonism, 
with  ancient  and  Catholic  usages.  It  is  a  mere  copy  of 
a  mediaeval  interpolation,  which  has  hardly  any  more 
claim,  on  historical  or  theological  grounds,  to  a  place  in 
the  English  or  Lutheran  Prayer  Book  than  the  admis- 
sion of  the  existence  of  Pope  Joan  or  of  the  miracle  of 
Bolsena.  And,  so  far  from  these  words  being  regarded 
as  a  necessary  part  of  the  validity  of  Holy  Orders,  such 
an  assertion,  if  admitted,  would  of  itself  be  fatal  to  the 
validity  of  all  Holy  Ordei-s  whatever  ;  for  it  would  prove 
that  evei-y  single  ordination  for  the  first  twelve  hundred 
years  of  Christianity  was  invalid,  nay,  more,  that  every 
present  ordination  in  the  Roman  Church  itself  was  in- 
valid, inasmuch  as  in  the  Ordinal  itself  these  words  do 
not  occur  in  the  essential  parts  of  tlie  office,  but  only  in 
an  accidental  adjunct  of  it. 

IV.  But  further,  the  phrase  indicates,  even  in  reference 

to  the  subject  of  Confession  and  Absolution,  with  which 

it  has  no  direct  connection,   the  fundamental 

Confession 

and  Absoiu-    truth  which  is  incompatible  with  the  exclusive 

tion.  _  ^     ^ 

possession  of  this  privilege  by  the  clergy. 

1  The  whole  antiquarian  and  critical  side  of  the  introduction  of  these  words 
into  the  Latin  and  English  Ordinal  lias  been  worked  out  with  the  utmost  exact- 
ness and  with  the  most  searching  iaciuiry  by  Archdeacon  Reichel  in  the  Quar- 
terly Review  of  October,  1877,   •   Ordination  and  Confession." 


Chap.  VII.]  CONFESSION.  157 

For  the  principle  of  the  texts,  as  we  have  seen,  teaches 
us  that  we  all  have  to  bear  each  other's  burden.  There 
is  no  caste  or  order  of  men  who  can  relieve  us  of  this 
dread  responsibility,  of  this  noble  privilege.  The  clergy- 
man needs  the  advice  and  pardon  of  the  gifted  layman 
quite  as  much  as  the  layman  seeks  the  advice  and  pardon 
of  the  gifted  clergyman.  The  brother  seeks  the  forgive- 
ness of  the  brother  whom  he  hath  offended  ;  the  child 
of  the  parent ;  the  neighbor  of  the  neighbor.  This  in 
the  earliest  times  was  the  real  meaning  of  Confession. 
"  Confess  your  faults,"  says  St.  James  —  to  whom  ?  To 
the  elders  of  the  Church  whom  he  had  just  mentioned  ? 
To  the  Bishop,  or  the  Priest,  or  the  Deacon  ?  No.  "  Con- 
fess your  faults  one  to  another.''''  It  is  as  though  he  said, 
"  Let  there  be  mutual  confidence."  Every  one  can  do 
his  neighbor  some  good ;  every  one  can  protest  against 
some  evil ;  and  the  whole  tone  of  the  community  shall 
thus  be  raised. 

The  full  sympathy  which  thus  prevailed  amongst  the 
members  of  the  infant  Church  no  doubt  soon  died  away. 
But  its  semblance  was  long  continued  in  the  onl}^  form 
of  confession  that  was  known  for  four  centuries,  namely, 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  faults  of  the  penitent,  not  in 
private,  but  in  public,  to  the  whole  congi-egation,  who 
then  publicly  expressed  their  forgiveness.  The  substitu- 
tion of  a  single  priest  for  a  large  congregation  as  the  re- 
ceptacle of  confession  arose  from  the  desire  of  avoiding 
the  scandals  occasioned  by  the  primitive  publicity.  It 
was  not  till  long  afterwards  that  the  notion  sprang  up  of 
any  special  virtue  attaching  to  the  forgiveness  of  a  cler- 
gyman, or  that  any  private  or  special  confession  was 
made  to  him.  Even  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Roman 
Mass  is  retained  a  testimony  to  the  independence  and 
equality  in  this  respect  of  people  and  minister.  There, 
in  the  most  solemn  ordinance  of  religion,  the  priest  first 


158  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

turns  to  the  people  and  confesses  his  sins  to  them,  and 
they  publicly  absolve  him,  in  exactly  the  same  form  of 
words  as  he  uses  when  they  in  their  turn  publicly  confess 
their  faults  to  him.^  This  striking  passage,  standing  as 
it  does  in  the  forefront  of  the  Roman  Missal,  is  one  of 
the  many  variations  in  the  Roman  Church  which,  if  fol- 
lowed out  to  its  logical  consequences,  would  correct  some 
of  the  gravest  errors  which  have  spi'ung  up  within  its 
pale.  It  has  probably  escaped  attention  from  the  dead 
language  and  the  inaudible  manner  in  which  it  is  re- 
peated. But  it  is  not  the  less  significant  in  itself  ;  and 
had  it  been  transferred  to  the  English  Prayer  Book, 
where  the  vitality  of  the  language  and  the  more  audible 
mode  of  reading  the  service  would  have  brought  it  into 
prominence,  it  would  have  more  than  counterbalanced 
those  two  or  three  ambiguous  passages  on  the  subject 
which  the  Reformers  left  in  the  Liturgy. 

There  is  a  story  told  of  James  I.,  who  when,  after  in- 
dulging in  a  furious  passion  against  a  faithful  servant,^ 
he  found  that  it  was  under  a  mistake,  sent  for  him  im- 
mediately, would  neither  eat,  drink,  nor  sleep  till  he  saw 
him,  and  when  the  servant  entered  his  chamber  the  King 
kneeled  down  and  begged  his  pardon  ;  nor  would  he  rise 
from  his  humble  posture  till  he  had  compelled  the  as- 
tonished servant  to  pronounce  the  words  of  absolution. 

1  The  Priest  says,  "Confiteor  Deo  Omnipotenti,  Beat^  Maria;  semper  Vir- 
gini,"  etc.,  "et  vobis,  fratres,  quia  peccavi  nimis  cogitatione,  verbo,  et  opcre, 
mea  culpa,  mea  culpa,  mea  maxima  culpa.  Ideo  precor  beatam  Mariam  seuipcr 
Virginem,"  etc.,  "  et  vos,  fratres,  orare  pro  me  ad  Dominum  Ueuiii  nostrum." 
The  attendants  reply,  "  Misereatur  tui  Omnipotens  Dcus,  et,  dimissis  peccatis 
tuis,  penlucat  te  ad  vitam  teternam."  The  Priest  says  Amen,  and  stands  up. 
Then  the  attendants  repeat  the  confession,  only  changing  the  words  "  vobis, 
fratres  "'  and  "  vos  fratres  "  into  "  tibi,  pater  "  and  "  te,  pater,"  and  the  Priest 
replies  in  like  words.  Finally  the  Priest,  signing  himself  witii  the  sign  of  tiie 
cross,  says,  "  Indulgentiam,  absolutioncm  et  remis.'-ioneni  peccatorum  nostro- 
rum  tribuet  nobis  Omnipotens  et  Misericors  Domiiius ;  ".which  is  evidently  a 
joint  absolution  for  both  himself  and  the  people.  The  form  "Ego  absolve  te" 
is,  as  l)efore  observed,  of  a  much  later  date. 

H  Aikin,  Life  of  James  I.  (ii.  402). 


Chap.  VII.]  ITS   TRUE   APPLICATION.  159 

That  was  a  grotesque  but  genuine  form  of  penitence  ; 
that  was  a  grotesque  but  legitimate  form  of  absolution. 
There  was  a  story  told  during  the  Turkish  war  of  1877, 
that  a  Roumanian  soldier,  after  having  received  the  sac- 
raments from  a  priest  on  his  death-bed,  would  not  be 
satisfied  till  he  had  obtained  an  interview  with  the  ex- 
cellent Princess  of  Roumania.  To  her  he  explained  that 
he  had  tried  to  escape  from  the  dangers  of  the  battle  by 
mutilating  one  of  his  fingers  ;  and  against  her  and  her 
husband,  the  Prince  of  Roumania,  he  felt  that  this  offence 
had  been  committed.  From  the  Princess,  and  not  from 
the  priest,  he  felt  must  the  forgiveness  come  which  alone 
could  bring  any  comfort  to  him.  That  forgiveness  was 
whispered  into  the  dying  man's  ear  by  the  Princess  ; 
with  that  forgiveness,  not  sacerdotal,  but  truly  human, 
and  therefore  truly  divine,  the  penitent  soldier  passed  in 
peace  to  his  rest.^  In  fact,  the  moment  that  we  admit 
the  efficacy  of  repentance,  we  deny  the  necessity  of  any 
special  absolution.  An  incantation,  of  which  the  virtue 
rests  in  the  words  pronounced,  is  equally  valid  whether 
the  person  over  whom  it  is  pronounced  is  guilty  or  inno- 
cent, conscious  or  unconscious.  But  the  moment  that 
the  moral  condition  of  the  recipient  is  acknowledged  as  a 
necessary  element,  that  of  itself  becomes  the  chief  part, 
and  the  repetition  of  certain  words  may  be  edifying,  but 
is  not  essential.  The  welfare  of  the  hearer's  soul  de- 
pends not  on  any  external  absolution,  but  on  its  own  in- 
trinsic state.  The  value  of  any  absolution  or  forgiveness 
depends  not  on  the  external  condition  of  the  man  Avho 
pronounces  it,  but  on  the  intrinsic  truth  of  the  forgive- 
ness. 

Not  long   ago,  when  a   French  ship  foundered   in   the 
Atlantic,  a  brave  French  priest  was  overheard  repeating 
the   absolution  in   the  last  moments  of  life  to  a  fellow- 
1  The  Times,  Nov.  2,  1877. 


160  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

countryman.  All  honor  to  liim  for  the  gallant  discharge 
of  what  he  believed  to  be  his  duty  I  But  is  there  a  sin- 
gle reflecting  man,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  who 
would  not  feel  that  the  intervention  of  a  priest  at  that 
moment  was  in  itself  absolutely  indifferent  ?  At  all 
times  the  Bible  and  the  enlightened  conscience  rejoeat- 
edly  assure  us  that  that  which  commends  a  departing 
spirit  to  its  Creator  and  Judge  is  not  the  accidental  cir- 
cumstance of  his  listening  to  a  particular  form  of  words 
uttered  by  a  particular  person,  but  the  sincerity  of  re- 
pentance, the  uprightness,  the  humility,  the  purity,  the 
faithfulness  of  the  man  himself. 

It  may  be  a  consolation  to  us  to  hear  from  well-known 
lips  which  sjDeak  to  us  with  tenderness,  with  knowledge, 
and  with  justice,  the  assurance  that  we  are  regarded  as 
innocent :  it  may  be  a  consolation  to  hear  with  our  out- 
ward ears  the  solemn  declarations  that  the  Supreme 
Father  is  always  ready  to  receive  the  returning  penitent ; 
that  the  soul  which  returns  from  evil  and  does  what  is 
lawful  and  right  shall  surely  live.  But  this  assurance, 
by  the  nature  of  the  case,  is  well  known  to  us  already 
from  hundreds  of  passages  in  the  Bible,  and  from  the 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  And  also  it  can  come  from 
any  one  whom  we  respect,  from  any  one  whom  we  may 
have  injured,  from  any  one  who  will  give  us  a  true,  dis- 
interested verdict  on  our  worse  and  on  our  better  quali- 
ties. It  is  finely  described  in  a  well-known  tale  —  "  The 
Heir  of  Redclyffe  "  —  that  when  the  obstinate  Pharisa- 
ical youth,  at  last,  in  bitter  remorse  acknowledges  his 
fault  to  the  wife  of  the  man  whom  he  has  mortally  in- 
jured, she  takes  upon  herself  to  console  him  and  absolve 
him,  and  her  absolution  consists  in  repeating  the  words 
of  the  Psalmist :  "  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  troubled 
spirit  ;  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  wilt  Thou 
not  despise."     No  Pontifical  decree  could  say  more  ;  no 


Chap.  VII.]  ITS    TRUE   MEANING.  161 

true  forgiveness  could  say  less.  Whenever  any  man  is 
able  to  see  clearly  that  his  fellow-man  has  truly  repented, 
or  that  a  course  of  action  is  clear  and  right  —  then,  who- 
ever he  be,  he  can  declare  that  promise  of  God's  forgive- 
ness. In  all  cases  each  man  must  strive  to  act  on  his 
own  judgment  and  on  his  own  conscience.  The  first 
duty  of  the  penitent  is  to  try  to  minister  to  his  own  dis- 
ease. "  The  heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness,  and  a 
stranger  doth  not  intermeddle  with  his  joy." 

Why  should  we  faint  or  fear  to  live  alone, 
Since  all  alone,  so  Heav'n  has  will'd,  we  die? 

The  next  duty  may  be  to  get  sound  advice  on  his  future 
course.  But  that  advice  can  be  given  by  any  competent 
person,  and  the  competency  depends  not  on  any  minis- 
terial or  sacerdotal  character,  but  on  personal  insight  into 
character  to  be  found  equally  in  layman  and  clergyman. 

It  is  a  duty  to  cultivate  the  conviction  that  we  all  alike 
need  to  be  guided  and  be  forgiven,  and  to  have  our  course 
made  clear.  All  alike,  according  to  the  several  gifts 
which  God  has  bestowed  on  the  vast  family  of  mankind, 
have  the  power  to  forgive,  to  assist,  to  enlighten  each 
other.  In  the  last  resort  there  is  no  one  to  be  considered 
or  regarded,  but  our  own  immortal  struggling  souls  and 
the  One  eternally  Just  and  Merciful  God.  Our  own  re- 
sponsibility must  be  maintained  without  shifting  it  to  the 
keeping  of  any  one  else.  We,  all  of  us,  each  with  some 
different  gift,  are  the  inheritors  of  the  promise  to  bind 
and  to  loose  —  that  is,  to  warn  and  to  console  our  breth- 
ren, as  we  in  like  manner  hope  to  be  warned  and  con- 
soled by  them. 

V.    Such  is  the  summary  of  this  question  needlessly 
complicated    by    irrelevant    discussions.      The    texts    on 
which  the  popular  theory  and  practice  of  abso-  j^,  tj.ue 
lution  are  grounded  are,  as  we  have  seen,  alto-  ™<^^°'"s- 
gether  beside  the  purpose.     They  no  more  relate  to  it 
11 


162  ABSOLUTION.  [Chap.  VII. 

than  the  promise  to  Peter  relates  to  the  Popes  of  Rome, 
or  than  Isaiah's  description  of  the  ruin  of  the  Assyrian 
King  under  the  figure  of  Lucifer  relates  to  the  Fall  of 
the  Angels,  or  than  the  two  swords  at  the  Last  Supper 
relate  to  the  spiritual  and  secular  jurisdiction,  or  than 
the  sun  and  moon  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  relate  to 
the  Pope  and  the  Emperor.  In  all  these  cases,  the  mis- 
interpretation has  been  long  and  persistent ;  in  all  these, 
it  is  acknowledged  by  all  scholars,  outside  the  Roman 
communion,  that  they  are  absolutely  without  foundation. 
And,  as  the  misinterpretation  of  the  texts  on  which 
the  theory  of  Episcopal  or  Presbyterian  absolution  rests 
will  die  out  before  a  sound  understanding  of  the  Biblical 
records,  so  also  the  theory  and  practice  itself,  though 
with  occasional  recrudescences,  will  probably  die  out 
with  the  advance  of  civilization.  The  true  power  of  the 
clergy  will  not  be  diminished  but  strengthened  by  the 
loss  of  this  fictitious  attribute.  Noma  of  the  Fitful  Head 
was  a  happier  and  more  useful  member  of  society  after 
she  abandoned  her  magical  arts  than  when  she  practised 
them.  In  proportion  as  England  has  become,  and  in 
proportion  as  it  will  yet  more  become,  a  truly  free  and 
truly  educated  people,  able  of  itself  to  bind  what  ought 
to  be  bound,  and  to  loose  what  ought  to  be  loosed,  in 
that  proportion  will  the  belief  in  priestly  absolution  van- 
ish, just  as  the  belief  in  wizards  and  necromancers  has 
vanished  before  the  advance  of  science.  As  alchemy  has 
disappeared  to  give  place  to  chemistry,  as  astrology  has 
given  way  to  astronomy,  as  monastic  celibacy  has  given 
way  to  domestic  purity,  as  bull-fights  and  bear-baits  have 
given  way  to  innocent  and  elevating  amusements,  as  scho- 
lastic casuistry  has  bowed  before  the  philosophy  of  Bacon 
and  Pascal,  so  will  the  belief  in  the  magical  offices  of  a 
sacerdotal  caste  vanish  before  the  growth  of  manly  Chris- 
tian independence  and  generous  Christian  sympathy. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS. 

At  a  time  when  all  Churches  are  or  ouscht  to  be  occu- 
pied  with  so  many  important  questions,  when  so  many 
interesting  inquiries  have  arisen  with  regard  to  the  ori- 
gin and  the  interpretation  of  the  Sacred  Books,  when  the 
adjustment  of  science  and  theology  needs  more  than  ever 
to  be  properly  balanced,  when  the  framework  of  the 
English  Prayer  Book  requires  so  many  changes  and  ex- 
pansions in  order  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  time,  when 
measures  for  the  conciliation  of  our  Nonconformist  breth- 
ren press  so  closely  on  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  those 
who  care  for  peace  and  truth,  when  so  many  social  and 
political  problems  are  crying  for  solution,  some  apology 
is  due  for  treating  of  a  subject  so  apparently  trivial  as 
the  Vestments  of  the  Clergy.  But,  inasmuch  as  it  has 
nevertheless  occupied  considerable  attention  in  the  Eng- 
lish Church,  its  discussion  cannot  be  altogether  out  of 
place. 

What  has  to  be  said  will  be  divided  into  two  parts: 
the  first,  an  antiquarian  investigation  into  the  origin  of 
ecclesiastical  vestments ;  the  second,  some  practical  re- 
marks on  the  present  state  of  the  controversy  in  Eng- 
land. 

I.  The  antiquarian  investigation  of  this  matter  is  not 
in  itself  devoid  of  interest.  It  belongs  to  the  general 
survey  of  the  origin  of  usages  and  customs  in  the  early 
ages  of  Christianity.  The  conclusion  to  which  it  leads 
is  that  the  dress  of  the  clergy  had  no  distinct  intention  — 


164  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIII. 

symbolical,  sacerdotal,  sacrificial,  or  mystical ;  but  orig- 
inated simply  in  the  fashions  common  to  the  whole  com- 
munity of  the  Roman  Empire  during  the  three  first  cen- 
turies. 

There  is  nothing  new  to  be  said  in  favor  of  this  con- 
clusion. But  it  has  nevertheless  been,  and  is  still,  per- 
sistently denied.  In  spite  of  the  assertion  to  the  contrary 
of  Cardinal  Bona,  Pere  Thomassin,  Dr.  Rock,  and  our 
own  lamented  Wharton  Marriott,  it  has  been  asserted, 
both  by  the  admirers  and  depredators  of  clerical  vest- 
ments, that  they  were  borrowed  in  the  first  instance  (to 
use  Milton's  phrase  in  his  splendid  invective  against  the 
English  clergy)  "from  Aaron's  wardrobe  or  the  Flamen's 
vestry  ;  "  that  they  are  intrinsically  marks  of  distinction 
between  the  clergy  and  the  laity,  between  the  Eucharist 
and  every  other  religious  service,  between  a  sacerdotal 
and  an  iinti-sacerdotal  view  of  the  Christian  ministry  — 
that  if  they  are  abolished,  all  is  lost  to  the  idea  of  a 
Christian  priesthood ;  that  if  they  are  retained,  all  is 
gained. 

In  face  then  of  these  reiterated  statements,  it  maj^  not 
be  out  of  place  to  prove  that  every  one  of  them  is  not 
only  not  true,  but  is  the  reverse  of  the  truth ;  that  if 
they  symbolize  anything,  they  symbolize  ideas  the  con- 
trary of  those  now  ascribed  to  them. 

II.  Let  us,  in  our  mind's  eye,  dress  up  a  lay  figure  at 
the  time  of  the  Christian  era,  when  the  same  general 
costume  pervaded  all  classes  of  the  Roman  Em- 
ancient         pire,  from  Palestine  to  Spain,  verv  much  as  the 

world.  ^  . 

costume  of  the  nineteenth  century  pervades  at 
least  all  the  upper  classes  of  Europe  now. 

The  Roman, 1  Greek,  or  Syrian,  whether  gentleman  or 

1  As  the  vestments  in  question  are  chiefly  those  of  the  Latin  Church,  tiiese 
remarks  apply  more  to  the  dress  of  the  Western  than  of  the  Eastern  popuhition 
of  the  Empire.  But  in  general  (as  appears  even  from  tlie  New  Testament 
alone,  without  referring  to  secular  authorities)  the  dress  even  of  the  Syrian 
peasants  was  substantially  the  same  as  that  of  the  Greek  or  the  Roman. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THE   INNER   DRESS.  165 

peasant,  unless  in  exceptional  cases,  had  no  hat,  no  coat, 
no  waistcoat,  and  no  trousers.  He  had  shoes  or  sandals ; 
he  wore  next  his  skin,  first,  a  shirt  or  jacket,  double  or 
single  ;  then  a  long  shawl  or  plaid  ;  and  again,  especially 
in  the  later  Roman  period,  a  cloak  or  overcoat.^ 

1.  The  first,  or  inner  garb,  if  we  strip  the  ancient  Ro- 
man to  his  shirt,  was  what  is  called  in  classical  Greek, 
chiton;  in  classical  Latin,  tunica;  a  woollen 
vest,  which  sometimes  had  beneath  it  another 
fitting  close  to  the  skin,  called  suhucida^  or  interula,  or, 
in  the  case  of  soldiers,  camisia?  It  is  this  name  of  cami- 
sia,  which,  under  the  name  of  chemise,  has  gradually  su- 
perseded the  others,  and  which  has  been  perpetuated  in 
ecclesiastical  phraseology  under  another  synonym  derived 
from  its  white  color  (for  shirts,  with  the  ancients  as  with 
the  moderns,  were  usually  white\  and  hence  it  came  to 
be  called  an  alb. 

This  is  the  dress  which  became  appropriated  specially 
to  the  Deacon.  He,  as  the  working-man  of  the  clergy, 
ofiiciated,  as  it  were,  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 

Bat  as  the  homeliest  garments  are  subject  to  the  va- 
rieties of  fashion,  the  shirt,  the  chemise,  the  camisia, 
whether  of  Pagan  or  Christian,  had  two  forms.^  The 
simpler  or  more  ancient  was  an  under-shirt  with  short 
sleeves,  or  rather  with  no  sleeves  at  all,  called  in  Greek  * 
exomis,  in  Latin  colohium.  The  more  costly  form  may  be 
compared  to  the  shirt  of  Charles  H.,  with  fine  rufiles. 

■I  For  the  general  dress,  see,  for  the  Greek,  Bekker's  Cliaricles,  pp.  402-20; 
for  the  Roman,  Bekker's  Gallus,  pp.  401-30;  for  the  Syrian,  Qmhh' a  Dictionary 
of  the  Bible,  under  Dress;  for  the  ecclesiastical  dresses.  Smith's  Dictionary  of 
Christian  Antiquities,  under  the  different  words. 

^  St.  Jerome,  Epist.  64,  ad  Fabiolam.  He  apologizes  for  using  so  vulgar  a 
word  as  camisia. 

3  Bona  1,  14;  Thomassin,  Vetus  et  Nova  Discijjlina,  ii.  2,  49.  That  in 
Greece  there  was  generally  an  under  shirt  and  an  outer  shirt  is  proved  in  Char- 
ides,  p.  406. 

*  Charicles,  415. 


166  ECCLESIASTICAL  VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIII. 

It  was  called  the  Dalmatica,  from  its  birthplace  Dalma- 
tia  —  in  the  same  way  as  the  cravats  of  the  French .  in 
the  seventeenth  century  were  called  Steinkerhs  from  the 
battle  of  that  name  ;  or  the  Ulsters  of  the  present  day 
from  the  Northern  province  of  Ireland.  The  first  ^  per- 
sons recoi'ded  to  have  worn  it  are  the  infamous  Emperors 
Com  modus  and  Heliogabalus.  It  was  thought  an  out- 
rage on  all  propriety  when  Heliogabalus  appeared  pub- 
licly in  this  dress  in  the  streets  after  dinner,  calling  him- 
self a  second  Fabius  or  Scipio,  because  it  was  the  sort  of 
frock  which  the  Cornelii  or  Fabii  were  wont  to  wear  in 
their  childhood  when  they  were  naughty  boys.  It  was 
as  if  some  English  magnate  were  to  walk  up  St.  James's 
Street  in  his  dressing-gown.  But  the  fashion  spread  rap- 
idly, and  thirty  years  afterwards  apjjears  as  the  dress  of 
Cyprian,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  when  led  out  to  death  — 
not,  however,  in  that  instance  as  his  outer  garment.  It 
became  fixed  as  the  name  of  the  dress  of  the  deacon  after 
the  time  of  Constantine,  when  it  superseded  the  original 
colohium ;  and  although  it  quickly  spread  to  the  other 
orders,  it  is  evident  that  it  was,  for  the  reasons  above 
given,  particularly  suitable  to  the  inferior  clergy,  who, 
as  having  nothing  over  it,  would  seem  to  require  a  more 
elaborate  shirt.  This  was  the  first  element  of  ecclesias- 
tical vestments,  as  deacons  were  the  first  elements  of  a 
Christian  ministry. 

In  later  times,  after  the  invasion  of  the  Northern  bar- 
barians, this  shirt,  which  must,  perhaps,  always  have  been 
worn  over  some  thicker  garment  next  the  skin,  was  drawn 
over  the  fur  coat,  sheepskin,  or  otter  skin,  the  jjellisse  of 
the  Northern  nations  ;  and  hence  in  the  twelfth  century 
arose  the  barbarous  name  of  super-pelUcium,  or  surplice 
—  the  overfur.  Its  name  indicates  that  it  is  the  latest 
of  ecclesiastical  vestments,  and  though,  like  all  the  others, 

1  Bingham,  vi.  4,  19. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THE   SHAWL.  167 

generally  worn  ^  both  by  clergy  and  laity,  in-doors  and 
out-of-doors,  is  the  most  remote  in  descent  from  primitive 
times.  Another  form  of  this  dress  —  also,  as  its  German 
name  implies,  dating  from  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians 
—  was  the  rochet  or  rocket^  "the  little  rock''''  or  "coat" 
worn  by  the  mediaeval  bishops  out-of-dooi's  on  all  occa- 
sions, except  when  they  went  out  hunting  ;  and  which 
now  is  to  them  what  the  surplice  is  to  presbyters.  The 
lawn  sleeves  ^  are  merely  an  addition  to  make  up  for  the 
long-flowing  sleeves  of  tlie  surplice. 

But  in  both  cases  the  fur  coat  within  was  the  usual 
dress,  of  which  the  overfur  was,  as  it  were,  merely  the 
mask.  Charlemagne  in  winter  wore  an  otter-skin  breast- 
plate ^  and  hunted  in  sheepskin.  The  butcher  of  Rouen, 
who  was  saved  alone  out  of  the  crew  of  the  Blanche  Nef, 
wore  a  sheepskin.  St.  Martin,  Apostle  of  the  Gauls,  and 
the  first  Bishop  of  Tours,  when  he  officiated  wore  also  a 
sheepskin  — a  fur  coat  (as  it  would  seem  with  no  surplice 
over  it,  and  with  no  sleeves),  and  consecrated  the  Eu- 
charistic  elements  with'  his  bare  arms,  which  came  through 
the  sheepskin,  like  those  of  the  sturdy  deacons  who  had 
brandished  their  sinewy  arms  out  of  the  holes  of  their 
colobium. 

2.  The  second  part  of  the  dress  was  a  shawl  or  blanket, 
wrapt  round  the  shoulders  over  the  shirt,  in  Greek  hima- 
tion.  in  Latin  toqa,  or  pallium.     This  also  was 

1  1  PI  The  shawl. 

usually  white  as  the  common  color  of  the  an- 
cient dress,  which  is  still  perpetuated  in  the  white  flannel 
robe  of  the  Pope,  but  marked  with  a  broad  purple  stripe. 
This  is  what  appears,  in  the  early  portion  of  the  fourth 
century,  as  the  dress  equally  of  ecclesiastics  and  laity. 
After  the  fourth  century  the  Christians  affected  the  use 

1  Thomassin,  ii.  2,  48. 

2  Hody,  On  Convocation. 

8  Thomassin,  ii.  2,  c.  48,  69. 


168  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIII. 

of  black  shawls  (liketlie  Geneva  divines  of  the  sixteenth 
century),  in  order  to  imitate  the  philosophers  and  as- 
cetics. Of  the  general  adoption  of  the  black  dress,  an 
interesting  illustration  is  given  in  the  case  of  the  Bishop 
Sisinnius,  who  chose  to  wear  white,  and  when  he  was 
asked  what  command  in  Scripture  he  found  for  his  white 
surplice,  replied,  "  What  command  is  there  for  wearing 
black  ?  "  1  For  reasons  which  will  appear  immediately, 
there  are  fewer  traces  of  this  part  of  the  ancient  dress 
than  of  any  other  in  the  vestments  of  the  clergy.  The 
only  relic  of  the  Roman  toga  or  pallium  remains  in  the 
2yall  of  an  Archbishop,  which  is  only  the  string  which 
held  it  together,  or  the  broad  stripe  which  marked  its 
surface. 

3.  The  third  part  of  the  ancient  dress,  and  that  from 
which  the  larger  part  of  the  ecclesiastical  vestments  are 
The  over-  derived,  was  the  overcoat,  in  Latin  lacerna  or 
coat.  pcenula^  in  Greek  2yhoelo7ie.     It  ought  perhaps 

to  have  been  worn  over  the  toga,  but  was  sometimes  for 
convenience  worn  instead  of  it,  and  at  last,  after  the  dis- 
continuance of  the  toga,^  —  which  for  practical  purposes 
came  to  be  much  like  our  evening  dress  coat,  and  was 
thus,  after  the  Empire,  only  worn  on  official  occasions,  — 
the  overcoat  came  to  be  the  usual  dress,  as  frock  coats, 
shooting  coats,  and  the  like  are  worn  in  general  morning 
society  in  England.  What  had  once  been  regarded  only 
as  a  rough  soldier's  garb,  unsuitable  within  the  city,  came 
to  be  worn  everywhere.  It  was  for  the  most  part  like  a . 
poncho,  or  cape,  or  burnous,^  but  it  consisted  of  several 
varieties. 

There  was  the  birrhus,  or  scarlet  cloak,  worn  by  Atha- 
nasius,  as  a  wealthy  person,  when  he  visited  the  mys- 

1  Bingham,  vi.  4,  19;  Socrates,  vi.  20;  Thomassin,  i.  2-24. 

2  Marriott,  Vcstiarium,  p.  xii. 

8  So  it  is  translated  in  the  Coptic  Liturgy. 


Chap.  VIII]  THE   OVERCOAT.  169 

terious  lady  ^  in  Alexandria,  but  not  thought  by  Augus- 
tine suitable  to  his  poverty.  There  was  the  caracalla,  a 
long  overall,  brought  by  Antoninus  Bassianus  from 
France,  whence  he  derived  his  name  —  and  it  was  this 
which  was  corrupted  into  casacalla,  casaca,  and  finally 
cassock.  It  had  a  hood,  and  was  called  in  Greek  amphi- 
balus,  and  as  such  appears  in  the  account  of  the  persecu- 
tion of  St.  Alban,  ^  where,  by  a  strange  confusion,  the 
name  of  Amphibalus  has  been  supposed  to  represent  the 
name  of  a  saint.  The  word  cassock,  although  highly  es- 
teemed, has  never  readied  so  high  a  pitch  of  reverence. 

The  same  form  of  dress  was  also  called  casula,  a  slang 
name  used  by  the  Italian  laborers  ^  for  the  capote,  which 
they  called  "  their  little  house,"  as  "tile"  is — or  was 
a  short  time  ago  —  used  for  a  "  hat,"  and  as  "  coat  "  is 
the  same  word  as  "  cote,"  or  "  cottage."  It  is  this  which 
took  the  name  of  chasuble,  and  was  afterwards  especially 
known  as  the  out-door  garment  of  the  clergy,  as  the  sa- 
gum  was  of  the  laity,  and  was  not  adopted  as  a  vestment 
for  sacred  services  before  the  ninth  century.  Another 
name  by  which  it  was  called  was  planeta,  "  the  wan- 
derer," because  it  wandered  loosely  over  the  body,  as  one 
of  these  overcoats  in  our  day  has  been  called  "  zephyr." 
This  was  the  common  overcoat  of  the  wealthier,  as  the 
casula  of  the  humbler  classes. 

Another  form  of  overcoat  was  the  capa,  or  copa,  "  the 
hood" —  also  called  the  pluviale,^  or  "  waterproof,"  to  be 
worn  in  rainy  weather  out-of-doors.  It  was  this  cape,  or 
cope,  that  St.  Martin  divided  with  the  beggar  at  the  gates 
of  Amiens,  and  hence  (according  to  one  derivation  of  the 
word)  the  capella,  or  chapel,  where  the  fragment  of  his 
cape  was  preserved.     It  is  the  vestment  of  which  the  see- 

1  Marriott,  pp.  Ivi.,  16. 

2  Bede,  H.  E.  i.  6. 

3  Columella,  Isidore,  Augustine;  see  Marriott,  pp.  228,  202. 
♦  Marriott,  p.  229. 


170  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  YIIL 

ular  use  has  longest  retained  its  hold,  having  been  worn 
by  Bishops  in  Parliament,  by  Canons  at  coronations,  and 
by  lay  vicars,  almsmen  and  the  like,  on  other  similar  oc- 
casions, till  quite  recently. 

Another  form  of  the  same  garb,  though  of  a  lighter 
texture,  and  chiefl}^  used  by  ladies  in  riding,  was  the  cy- 
mar,  or  chimere^^  of  which  the  trace  still  lingers  in  the 
bishop's  satin  robe,  which  so  vexed  the  soul  of  Bishop 
Hooper,  and  which  had  to  be  forced  on  him  almost  at 
the  point  of  the  sword  —  but  which  now  apparently  is 
cast  2  aside  by  advocates  of  the  modern  use  of  clerical 
vestments. 

The  mitre,  as  worn  in  the  Eastern  Church,  may  still 
be  seen  in  the  museums  of  Russia,  as  the  caps  or  turbans, 
worn  on  festive  occasions  in  ancient  days  by  princes  and 
nobles,  and  even  to  this  day  by  the  peasant  women.  The 
division  into  two  points,  which  appears  in  Western  mitres, 
is  only  the  mark  of  the  crease  which  is  the  consequence 
of  its  having  been,  like  an  opera  hat,  folded  and  carried 
under  the  arm. 

The  stole  ^  (which,  in  Greek,  is  simply  another  word 
for  the  overcoat,  or  pcenula)  in  the  ninth  century  came 
to  be  used  for  the  "  orarium."  This  was  a  simple  hand- 
kerchief for  blowing  the  nose,  or  wiping  otf  the  sweat 
from  the  face.  These  handkerchiefs,  on  state  occasions, 
were  used  as  ribbons,  streamers,  or  scarfs  ;  and  hence 
their  adoption  by  the  deacons,  who  had  little  else  to  dis- 
tinguish them.  When  Sir  James  Brooke  first  returned 
from  Borneo,  where  the  only  sign  of  royalty  was  to  hold 
a  kerchief  in  the  hand,  he  retained  the  practice  in  Eng- 
land. 

1  Archceolof/ia,  xxx.  27. 

2  See  the  recent  account  of  the  installation  of  the  Bishop  of  Capetown. 

8  Thoniassin,  8,  24.5.  He  is  perplexed,  and  justly,  by  the  dilhculty  of  under- 
standing how  the  ■"s^oZrt,"  which  was  the  word  for  the  whole  dress,  should 
have  been  appropriated  to  such  a  small  matter  as  the  handkerchief.  An  ex- 
planation is  attempted  in  Marriott,  pp.  75.  84,  90,  112,  115,  Lxiii. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THEIR   SECULAR   ORIGIN.  171 

III.  Before  we  pass  to  any  practical  application,  it 
may  be  remarked  that  this  historical  inquiry  has  a  two- 
fold interest.  First,  the  condition  of  the  early  Their  secu- 
Church,  which  is  indicated  in  this  matter  of  i'^'^o'^''s'n- 
dress,  is  but  one  of  a  hundred  similar  examples  of  the 
secular  and  social  origin  of  many  usages  which  are  now 
regarded  as  purely  ecclesiastical,  and  yet  more,  of  the 
close  connection,  or  rather  identity,  of  common  and  re- 
ligious, of  lay  and  clerical  life,  which  it  has  been  the  ef- 
fort of  fifteen  centuries  to  rend  asunder.  One  of  the 
treasures^  which  King  Edward  III.  presented  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  were  "  the  vestments  in  -which  St.  Peter 
was  wont  to  celebrate  mass."  What  those  media3val  I'el- 
ics  were  we  know  not,  but  what  the  actual  vestment  of 
St.  Peter  was  we  know  perfectly  well  —  it  was  a  "  fish- 
er's coat  2  cast  about  his  naked  body."  In  like  manner, 
the  Church  of  Rome  itself  is  not  so  far  wrong  when  it  ex- 
hibits in  St.  John  Lateran,  the  altar  at  which  St.  Peter 
fufilled  —  if  he  ever  did  fulfil  —  the  same  functions.  It 
is  not  a  stone  or  marble  monument,  but  a  rough  wooden 
table,  such  as  would  have  been  used  at  any  common 
meal.  And  the  churclies  in  which,  we  do  not  say  St. 
Peter,  for  there  were  no  churches  in  his  time,  but  in 
which  the  Bishops  of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries  offi- 
ciated, are  not  copies  of  Jewish  or  Pagan  temples,  but  of 
town-halls  and  courts  of  justice.  And  the  posture  in 
which  they  officiated  was  not  that  of  the  modern  Roman 
priest,  with  his  back  to  the  people,  but  that  of  the  ancient 
Roman  prsetor,-^  facing  the  people  —  for  whose  sake  he 
was  there.  And  the  Latin  language,  now  regarded  as 
consecrated  to  religious  purposes,  was  but  the  vulgar  dia- 

1  Adam  de  Murimuth,  Harl.  MS.  565,  vol.  200. 

2  In  like  manner  the  only  mention  of  St.  Paul's  vestments  is  the  allusion  to 
his  cloak  — thephcelone  —  descrihed  in  p.  168.  The  casual  notice  of  itself  pre- 
cludes the  notion  of  a  sacred  vestment.     2  Tim.  iv.  13. 

8  See  the  chapters  on  the  Basilica  and  on  the  Pope. 


172  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIH. 

lect  of  the  Italian  peasants.  And  the  Eucharist  itself 
was  the  daily  social  meal,  in  wliich  the  onl}'^  sacrifice  of- 
fered was  the  natural  thanksgiving,  offered  not  by  the 
presiding  minister,  but  by  all  those  who  brought  their 
contributions  from  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth. 

We  do  not  deny  that  in  those  early  ages  there  were 
many  magical  and  mystical  notions  afloat.  In  a  society 
where  the  whole  atmosphere  was  still  redolent  of  strange 
rites,  of  Pagan  witchcraft  and  demonology,  there  is  quite 
enough  to  make  us  rejoice  that  even  the  mediaeval  Church 
had,  in  some  respects,  made  a  great  advance  on  the 
Church  of  the  first  ages.  What  we  maintain  is,  that  in 
the  matter  of  vestments,  as  in  many  other  res^^ects,  the 
primitive  Church  was  not  infected  by  these  superstitions, 
and  is  a  witness  against  them.  They  are  incontrovertible 
proofs  that  there  was  a  large  mass  of  sentiment  and  of 
usage,  which  was  not  only  not  mediseval,  not  hierarchi- 
cal, but  the  very  reverse ;  a  mine  of  Protestantism  —  of 
Quakerism  if  we  will  —  which  remained  there  to  ex- 
plode, when  the  time  came,  into  the  European  Reforma- 
tion. They  coincide  with  the  fact  which  Bishop  Light- 
foot  has  proved  in  his  unanswerable  Essay,-'  that  the  idea 
of  a  separate  clerical  priesthood  was  unknown  to  the  early 
Church.  They  remain  in  the  ancient  Roman  ritual,  with 
other  well-known  discordant  elements,  a  living  protest 
against  the  modern  theories  which  have  been  engrafted 
upon  it. 

Secondly,  there  is  the  interest  of  following  out  the 
transformation  of  these  names  and  garments.  How  early 
Their  trans-  ^hc  transition  from  secular  to  sacred  use  took 
formation,  pj^^ge,  it  is  difficult  to  determine  ;  but  it  was 
gradually,  and  by  unequal  steps.  It  is  said  ^  that  even  to 
the  ninth  century  there  were  Eastern  clergy  who  cele- 

1  Bishop  Lightfoot's  Commeniary  on  the  PJiilippians,  pp.  247-66. 

2  Marriott,  p.  Ivii. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THEIR   TRANSFORMATION.  173 

• 

brated  the  Eucliarist  in  their  common  costume.  In  the 
original  Benedictine  rule  the  conventual  dress  was  so  well 
understood  to  be  merely  the  ordinary  dress  of  the  neigh- 
boring peasants,  that  in  the  sketches  of  early  monastic 
life  at  Monte  Casino  the  monks  are  represented  in  blue, 
green,  or  black,  Avith  absolute  indifference.  But  now 
the  distinction  between  "the  lay  and  clerical  dress,  which 
once  existed  nowhere,  has  become  universal.  It  is  not 
confined  to  ancient  or  to  Episcopal  Churches.  It  is  found 
in  the  Churches  of  Presbyterians  and  Nonconformists. 
The  extreme  simplicity  of  the  utmost  "  dissidence  of  Dis- 
sent "  has,  in  this  respect,  departed  further  from  primitive 
practice  than  it  has  from  any  Pontifical  or  ritual  splen- 
dor. A  distinguished  Baptist  minister,  one  of  the  most 
popular  preachers,  and  one  of  the  most  powerful  ecclesi- 
astics in  London,  was  shocked  to  find  that  he  could  not 
preach  in  Calvin's  church  at  Geneva  without  adopting 
the  gown,  and  naturally  refused  to  wear  it  except  under 
protest.  But  even  he,  in  his  London  Tabernacle,  had 
already  fallen  away  from  the  primitive  simplicity  which 
acknowledged  no  difference  of  dress  between  the  clergy 
and  the  laity,  —  for  he  as  well  as  all  other  ministers  (it  is 
believed)  has  adopted  the  black  dress  which  no  layman 
would  think  of  using  except  as  an  evening  costume.  The 
clergy  of  the  Church  of  England  have  either  adopted  the 
white  surplice,  once  the  common  frock,  drawn,  as  it  has 
been  seen,  over  the  fur  of  our  skin-clad  ancestors,  or  else 
have,  in  a  few  instances,  retained  or  restored  the  shreds 
and  patches  of  the  clothes  worn  by  Roman  nobles  and 
laborers.  The  Roman  clergy  have  done  the  same,  but  in 
a  more  elaborate  form. 

In  all,  the  process  has  been  alike.  First  the  early 
Christians,  not  the  clei'gy  only  but  the  laity  as  well, 
when  they  came  to  their  public  assemblies,  wore  indeed 
their  ordinary  clothes,  but  took  care  that  they  should  be 


174  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIIL 

« 

clean.  The  Pelagians, ^  and  the  more  ascetic  clergy,  in- 
sisted on  coming  in  I'ags,  but  this  was  contrary  to  the 
more  moderate  and  more  general  sentiment. 

Next,  it  was  natural  tliat  the  colors  and  forms  chosen 
for  their  Sunday  clothes  should  be  of  a  more  grave  and 
sober  tint,  as  that  of  the  Quakers  in  Charles  the  Second's 
time.  "  As  there  is  a  garb  proper  for  soldiers,  sailors, 
and  magistrates,^  so,"  says  Clement  of  Alexandria, 
"  thei'e  is  a  garb  befitting  the  sobriety  of   Christians." 

Then  came  the  process  which  belongs  to  all  society  in 
every  age  and  which  we  see  actually  going  on  before  our 
eyes  —  namely^  that  what  in  ordinary  life  is  liable  to  the 
rapid  transitions  of  fashion,  in  certain  classes  becomes 
fixed  at  a  particular  moment ;  and  then  —  though  again 
in  its  turn  undergoing  new  changes  of  fashion,  yet  re- 
tains something  of  its  old  form  or  name ;  and  finally  en- 
genders in  fanciful  minds  fanciful  reflections  as  far  as 
possible  removed  from  the  original  meaning  of  these  gar- 
ments. 

Take  for  example  the  wigs  of  Bishops.  First,  there 
was  the  long  flowing  hair  of  the  Cavaliers.  Then  when 
this  was  cut  short  came  the  long  flowing  wigs  in  their 
places.  Then  these  wei'e  dropped  except  by  the  learned 
professions.  Then  they  were  dropped  by  the  lawyers  ex- 
cept in  court.  Then  the  clergy  laid  them  aside,  with  the 
exception  of  the  bishops.  Then  the  bishops  laid  them 
aside  with  the  exception  of  the  archbishops.  Then  the 
last  archbishop  laid  his  wig  aside  except  on  official  occa- 
sions. And  now  even  the  archbishop  has  dropped  it. 
But  it  is  easy  to  see  that,  had  it  been  retained,  it  might 
have  passed  like  the  pall  into  the  mystic  symbol  of  the 
archiepiscopate,  patriarchate,  or  we  know  not  what. 
Bands  again  sprang  from  the  broad  ^  white  collars,  which 

1  Thomassin,  i.  2,  43.  2  Marriott,  p.  xxv. 

^  In  the  Lutheran  Church  the  same  fate  has  befallen  the  i-uff. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THEIR   TRANSFORMATION.  175 

fell  over  the  shoulders  of  the  higher  and  middle  classes  — 
whether  Cavalier  or  Puritan  —  Cromwell  and  Bunyan, 
no  less  than  Clarendon  and  Hammond.  Then  these  were 
confined  to  the  clergy  ;  then  reduced  to  a  single  white 
plait ;  then  divided  into  two  parts  ;  then  symbolized  to 
mean  the  two  tables  of  the  law,  the  two  sacraments,  or 
the  cloven  tongues  ;  then,  from  a  supposed  connection 
with  Puritanism,  or  from  a  sense  of  inconvenience,  ceased 
to  be  worn,  or  worn  only  by  the  more  old-fashioned  of  the 
clergy  ;  so  as  to  be  regarded  by  the  younger  generation 
as  a  symbol  of  Puritan  custom  or  doctrine.  Just  so,  and 
with  as  much  reason,  did  the  surplice  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
from  its  position  as  a  frock  or  pinafore  over  the  fur  coat, 
come  to  be  regarded  as  an  emblem  of  imputed  righteous- 
ness over  the  skins  in  which  were  clothed  our  first  par- 
ents ;  just  so  did  the  turban  or  mitra  when  divided  by 
its  crease  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  cloven  tongue;  just 
so  did  the  handkerchief  with  which  the  Roman  gentry 
wiped  their  faces  come  to  be  regarded  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury as  wings  of  angels,  and  in  the  seventh  as  the  yoke  of 
Christian  life.  Just  so  have  the  ponchos  and  waterproofs 
of  the  Roman  peasants  and  laborers  come  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  to  be  regarded  as  emblems  of  Sacrifice, 
Priesthood,  Real  Presence,  communion  with  the  universal 
Church,  Christian  or  ecclesiastical  virtues. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  answer  detailed  objections  to 
a  statement  of  which  the  general  truth  is  acknowledged 
by  all  the  chief  authorities  on  the  subject,  as  well  as  con- 
firmed by  the  general  analogy  of  the  origin  of  the  Chris- 
tian usages.  In  fact,  the  Roman  Church  has  at  times 
even  gloried  in  the  secular  origin  of  its  sacred  vestments, 
and  based  their  adoption  on  the  grant  by  Constantine  (in 
his  forged  donation)  of  his  own  imperial  garments  to  the 
Pope,  and  has  then  added  that  they  were  occasionally 
transferred  back  to  the  secular  princes,  —  as  wlien  Alex- 


176  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIIL 

ander  II.  granted  to  the  Duke  of  Bohemia  tlie  use  of  the 
mitre,  and  Alexander  III.  to  the  Doge  of  Venice  the  use 
of  an  umbrella  like  his  own,  —  and  that  the  Emperor 
wore  the  same  pall  or  mantle  that  was  used  by  Popes  in 
the  most  sacred  offices.^ 

The  only  indications  adduced  to  the  contrary  are  :  — 

1.  The  golden  plate  said  to  have  been  worn  by  St. 
John  and  St.  James.  But  even  if  Bishop  Lightfoot  had 
not  amply  ^  proved  that  this  is  a  mere  metaphor,  it  would 
not  avail,  for  a  golden  plate  has  never  been  adopted  as 
part  of  the  eccle'siastical  ornaments. 

2.  The  mention  in  the  Clementine  Liturgy  that  the 
bishop  at  a  certain  moment  of  the  service  puts  on  a 
white  ^  garment.  But  this  is  an  exception  which  proves 
the  rule.  Of  all  the  liturgies,  this  is  the  only  one  which 
has  any  indication  of  dress  —  and  the  Clementine  Liturg}'- 
is  so  saturated  with  interpolations  of  all  kinds,  some  even 
heretical,  that  its  text  cannot  be  seriously  used  as  an 
authentic  witness. 

3.  Jerome,  in  his  Commentary  on  Ezekiel  (c.  4-4),  says 
that  "  Divine  religion  has  one  habit  in  service,  another 
in  use  in  common  life."  But  he  is  speaking  here  of  the 
trousers  of  the  Jewish  priests  ;  and  in  all  the  allegorical 
interpretations  he  gives  here,  or  in  his  letter  to  Fabiola, 
of  the  garments  of  the  Jewish  priesthood,  there  is  not 
one  which  points  to  the  sacerdotal  character  of  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  ;  and  in  this  very  passage,  shortly  before, 
he  says,  "  Thus  we  learn  that  we  ought  not  to  enter  the 
Holy  of  Holies  with  any  sort  of  every-day  clothing  soiled 
from  the  use  of  life,  but  handle  the  Lord's  sacraments 
with  a  clean  conscience  and  clean  clothes.'''  It  is  evident 
that,  so  far  as  this  is  not  metaphorical,  it  means  only  that 

1  Thomassin,  i.  2,  c.  45,  s.  52. 

2  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  p.  252. 

8  Aafitrpav  €(r0^Ta,  as  in  the  next  quotation  from  Jerome,  probably  means 
"  clean,  white  gown." 


Chap.  VIII.]  THEIR   INSIGNIFICANCE.  177 

(according  to  the  description  of  the  first  stage  of  the 
process  of  adaptation  given  above)  the  clothes  of  Chris- 
tians in  public  worship  should  not  be  dirty,  but  clean. 

There  may  possibly  be  other  apparent  exceptions,  as, 
no  doubt,  in  later  Roman  writers  there  are  contradictory 
statements.  But  the  general  current  of  practice  and 
opinion  during  the  early  ages  is  that  which  is  well  summed 
up  by  the  Jesuit  Sirmondus,^  as  b}^  our  own  Bingham : 
"  The  color  and  form  of  dress  was  in  the  beginning  tlie 
same  for  ecclesiastics  and  laymen." 

Should  there  be  any  counter  statements  or  counter  facts 
scattered  here  and  there  through  the  ancient  customs  or 
literature  of  the  Latin  Church,  it  is  no  more  than  is  to 
be  expected  from  the  heterogeneous  forms  which  any 
large  historical  system  embraces  within  itself. 

IV.  We  now  proceed  to  the  practical  remarks  which 
this  part  suggests. 

1.  First,  it  is  not  useless  to  show  that  the  significance 
of  these  dresses  as  alleged,  both  in  attack  and  defence, 
rests  on  no  historical  foundation.  It  may  be  ^heir  insig- 
said,  perhaps,  that  the  fact  of  the  secular  origin  '^'^•^'^'^'^e- 
of  these  garments  does  not  exclude  their  importance  when, 
in  after-times,  symbolical  significations  were  attached  to 
them  ;  and  possibly  it  may  be  urged  that  the  most  un- 
questionably sacerdotal  symbols  were,  in  the  first  instance, 
drawn  from  homelier  objects.  But  there  is  this  wide  dis- 
tinction between  the  origin  of  the  Christian  ecclesiastical 
vestments  and  of  those  of  other  religions.  The  Christian 
dress,  as  we  have  indicated,  was  intended,  in  its  origin, 
not  to  separate  the  minister  from  the  people,  but  to  make 
him,  in  outward  show  and  appearance,  exactly  the  same. 
The  Jewish  high-priest  and  the  priestly  tribe  were,  on 
the  contrary,  as  in  other  matters,  so  in  their  dress,  from 
the  very  first  intended  to  be  thereby  separated,  at  least  in 

1  See  Marriott,  p.  43  ;  Thomassin,  1.  2,  43. 
12 


178  ECCLESIASTICAL   VESTMENTS.  [Chap.  VIIL 

their  public  ministrations,  as  far  as  possible  from  the  rest 
of  the  community.  It  would  have  been  perfectly  easy, 
had  the  Christian  Church  of  the  first  and  second  centuries 
been  possessed  with  the  idea  of  carrying  on  the  Jewish 
priesthood,  to  have  adopted  either  the  very  dress  worn 
by  the  Jewish  priests,  or  some  other  dress  equally  dis- 
tinctive. The  Jewish  priest  was  distinguished  from  his 
countrymen  by  his  bare  feet,  by  his  trousers,  by  his  white 
linen  robe,  by  his  sash  thirty-two  yards  long,i  by  his 
fillet,  by  his  tippet  orephod  ;  the  high-priest  by  his  breast- 
plate, by  his  bells,  and  by  his  pomegranates  ;  and  these 
vestments  were  regarded  as  so  indispensable  to  his  office 
that  the  high-priesthood  was  at  last  actually  conveyed 
from  predecessor  to  successor  by  the  act  of  handing  them 
on  to  each  high-priest ;  the  possession  of  the  vestments, 
in  fact,  conferred  the  office  itself.  Nothing  whatever  of 
the  kind  was  done,  or,  we  may  add,  even  in  the  wildest 
flights  of  modern  superstition  has  been  done,  with  the 
vestments  of  the  Christian  clergy.  Neither  trousers,^ 
nor  breastplate,  nor  bells,  nor  pomegranates,  nor  long 
winding  sash,  nor  naked  feet,  have  ever  been  regarded, 
and  certainly  were  not  in  the  early  ages  regarded,  as 
part  of  the  dress  or  undress  of  the  Christian  minister  ; 
nor  was  the  act  of  ordination  ever  performed  by  the 
transfer  of  chasuble,  or  lawn  sleeves,  or  cassock.  The 
whole  stress  of  the  theological  argument  in  favor  of  the 
importance  of  these  dresses  depends  on  proving  that 
such  as  they  may  by  any  one  now  be  supposed  to  be  in 
intention  and  in  significance,  such  they  were  in  the  early 
ages.  It  is  alleged  that,  by  parting  with  them,  we  part 
with  a  primitive  doctrine  of  the  Church.  But,  if  the 
facts  which  we  have  stated  are  correct,  the  connection 

1  Bahr's  Symholik,  p.  68. 

2  In  Jerome's  letter  to  Fabiola  {Ej).  64),  containing  an  elaborate  expositio-i  of 
the  dresses  of  the  Jewish  priests,  there  is  not  a  word  to  indicate  that  they  were 
adopted  by  the  Christian  clergy. 


Chap.  VIII.]  THKIR   INSIGNIFICANCE.  179 

between  these  dresses  and  the  sacerdotal  theories  with 
which  they  have  been  entangled  is  cut  off  at  the  very 
I'oot.  Unless  it  can  be  shown  that  they  were  sacerdotal 
in  the  second  or  third  centuries,  it  is  wholly  irrelevant  to 
allege  that  they  became  sacerdotal  in  the  thirteenth  or 
the  nineteenth  centuries.  Whatever  sacerdotal,  or  sym- 
bolical, or  sacramental  associations  have  been  attached 
to  them  may  be  mediaeval,  but  certainly  are  not  prim- 
itive ;  and  those  who  wish  to  preserve  the  substance  of 
the  primitive  usage  should  officiate,  not  in  the  dresses 
which  are  at  present  worn  in  Roman,  Anglican,  and 
Nonconformist  Churches,  but  in  the  every-day  dress  of 
common  life  —  in  overcoats,  or  smock-frocks,  or  shirt- 
sleeves, according  as  they  belonged  to  the  higher  or  in- 
ferior grade  of  the  Christian  ministry.  We  ai"e  not 
arguing  in  favor  of  such  a  return  to  primitive  usage.  In 
this,  as  in  a  thousand  other  cases,  it  is  the  depth  of  ret- 
rograde absurdity  to  suppose  tliat  we  are  to  thi'ow  off 
the  garb,  or  the  institutions,  or  the  language  of  civiliza- 
tion, in  order  to  accommodate  ourselves  to  the  literal 
platform  of  the  early  ages.  Matthew  Arnold  well  ob- 
serves that  to  declaim  against  bishops  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  or  against  the  Privy  Council,  because  St.  Paul 
knew  nothing  of  them,  is  just  as  unreasonable  as  it  would 
be  to  declaim  against  the  wearing  of  braces,  because 
St.  Paul  wore  no  braces.  And  so,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
insist  on  extinguishing  the  black  coat  or  the  black  gown 
of  the  Nonconformist  minister,  or  the  white  surplice  of 
the  Anglican  minister,  or  the  red  stockings  of  the  Roman 
cardinal,  because  they  are  not  the  ordinary  every-day 
dress  which  is  now  worn,  or  would  have  been  worn  in 
early  times,  would  be  as  superstitious  as  the  vulgar  ob- 
jection to  Church  est-ablishments.  There  may  be  reasons 
against  ecclesiastical  vestments  of  all  kinds.  But  the 
fact  of  their  being  modern  is  not  of  itself  against  them, 


180  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

unless  we  insist  on  making  them  essential  as  containing 
ideas  which  tliey  do  not,  and  never  were  intended  to, 
symbolize. 

2.  But  secondly,  it  may  be  said,  partly  by  the  oppo- 
nents and  partly  by  the  advocates  of  these  vestments, 
Their  con-  that,  whatever  may  be  the  history  of  their 
trasts.  origin,  all  that  we  have  practically  now  to  con- 

sider is  the  purpose  to  which  they  are  at  present  applied. 
It  was  maintained  not  long  ago  by  a  distinguished  polit- 
ical leader,  that  to  treat  these  badges  with  indifference 
would  be  no  less  absurd  than  to  treat  the  Red  Flag  as 
merely  a  piece  of  bunting,  whereas  it  really  represents 
anarchy  and  revolution  and  must  be  dealt  with  accord- 
ingly. We  venture  to  think  that  this  very  illustration 
furnishes  an  answer  to  the  allegations  of  importance  on 
the  one  side  or  the  other  brought  to  bear  upon  this  ques- 
tion. No  doubt  with  the  uneducated  and  ill-educated  of 
all  classes  a  superficial  badge  or  color  often  outweighs 
every  other  consideration.  It  is  within  the  memory  of 
living  persons  in  Norfolk,  where  party  feeling  ran  higher 
than  in  the  rest  of  England,  that  the  blue  or  orange 
color  of  the  electioneering  flags  was  the  one  single  notion 
which  the  lower  classes  had  of  the  great  Whig  or  the 
great  Conservative  parties  for  whom  they  were  led  to 
vote.  An  illiterate  artisan  on  his  death-bed  would  say, 
as  a  plea  for  the  condonation  of  many  sins,  "  At  least  I 
have  been  true  to  my  colors."  And  on  one  occasion, 
when  in  a  country  town,  by  some  accident,  the  blue  and 
orange  colors  were  interchanged,  the  whole  mass  of  the 
voters  followed  the  color  to  which  they  were  accustomed, 
although  it  was  attached  to  the  party  which  represented 
the  exactly  opposite  principles.  We  cannot  deny  that  in 
dealing  with  popular  passion  and  prejudice  on  this  as  on 
other  matters,  it  may  be  necessary  to  concede  far  more 
than  either  correct  history  or  calm  reason  will  justify. 


CiiAP.  VIII.]  THEIR    CONTRASTS.  181 

But  it  may  be  worth  while  in  all  these  cases  to  show 
how  insignificant  and  how  valueless  is  the  form.  Is'  it 
not  our  duty,  in  the  first  instance,  to  represent,  at  least 
to  ourselves  and  the  more  educated,  the  real  state  of  the 
case  —  to  be  fully  persuaded  that  these  things  are  of 
themselves,  as  St.  Paul  says,  absolutely  "  nothing  "  — even 
i£  immediately  afterwards,  in  condescension  to  weak 
brethren,  we  are  inclined,  as  he  was,  to  go  a  long  way 
either  in  avoiding  or  in  adopting  them  ?  Even  in  that 
very  instance  which  was  just  now  quoted  of  the  Red 
Flag,  on  an  occasion  when  its  adoption  might  have  led 
to  the  most  terrible  results  both  in  France  and  in  Europe, 
when  on  February  25,  1848,  a  raging  mob,  surgi.ng 
round  the  steps  of  the  HStel  de  Villa  of  Paris,  demanded 
that  this  crimson  banner  should  be  adopted  instead  of 
the  tricolor,  that  calamity,  as  it  certainly  would  have 
been,  was  averted,  even  with  that  savage  multitude,  by 
the  eloquent  appeal  of  one  man  to  the  indisputable  origin 
of  its  first  appearance  in  the  history  of  France.  "  The 
Tricolor,"  said  Lamartine,  "  has  made  the  tour  of  the 
world  with  our  glories  and  our  victories ;  but  the  Red 
Flag  has  only  made  the  tour  of  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
trailed  in  mire  and  defiled  with  blood."  He  alluded,  of 
course,  to  the  fact  that  the  Red  Flag  was  originally  the 
badge  of  martial  law,  and  yet  more  to  the  first  distinct 
occasion  of  its  adoption,  on  that  dark  day — among  the 
most  disgraceful  in  the  annals  of  the  first  French  Revo- 
lution —  which  witnessed  the  execution  of  one  of  the 
noblest  of  Frenchmen  under  the  insults  of  a  furious  pop- 
ulace who  waved  the  red  flag  before  him,  drassed  it 
through  the  mud,  and  drew  blood  with  it  from  his  ven- 
erable face.  By  that  calm  historical  allusion,  though  fully 
appreciated  perhaps  only  by  a  few,  Lamartine  was  able 
to  disperse  pacifically  and  reasonably  a  movement  which, 
had  he  fired  at  the  fl.ag  with  shot  and  shell  as  a  symbol  of 


182  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

anarchy,  would  probably  have  deluged  Paris  with  blood. 
If,' in  like  manner,  the  Comte  de  Cluunbord  could  be 
convinced  that  the  white  flag  represented  in  its  origin, 
not  legitimate  monarchy,  but  the  white  plume  of  a  Hu- 
guenot chief,  he  might  be  persuaded  to  abandon  that 
which,  as  it  would  seem,  no  force  of  arms  will  ever 
enable  him  to  relinquish,  or  the  country  to  adopt. 

In  all  such  cases  it  is  our  duty,  whether  as  opponents 
or  upholders  of  these  forms,  to  see  things  as  they  really 
are,  and  not  to  adopt  the  passionate  and  ill-informed  ex- 
pressions of  those  whom  we  ought  to  guide,  and  whose 
guidance  we  ought  to  be  the  last  to  accept. 

3.  Thirdly,  it  may  be  i-emarked  that  in  point  of  fact  it 
is  not  so  much  any  theory  concerning  these  dresses  which 
arouses  popular  indignation,  as  the  circumstance 
ami  foreign   that  they  are  unusual,  startling,  and  thei'efore 
ongm.  offensive  ;  and  also  that  they  are  regarded  as 

borrowed  from  the  Roman  Catholic  Churcli,  and  there- 
fore viewed  with  suspicion,  not  unnaturally,  as  the  out- 
ward signs  and  tokens  of  a  system  which  is  believed  to 
have  been  the  cause  of  infinite  mischief  and  misery  to 
England  three  hundred  years  ago,  and  to  Spain,  Italy, 
and  France  at  this  moment.  And  this  ground  of  indig- 
nation, apart  from  any  sacerdotal  or  sacrificial  associa- 
tions, is  further  borne  out  by  the  fact  that  it  is  actually 
the  ground  on  which  these  particular  vestments  are 
adopted  by  those  who  wear  them.  We  are  not  aware 
that  in  any  instance  there  has  been  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  our  English  clergy,*  either  to  wear  what  they  may 
imagine  to  have  been  actually  worn  in  the  second  and 
third  centuries,  or  to  wear  what  is  worn  in  the  Greek, 
the  Coptic,  or  the  Armenian  Church,  or  even  in  the  time 
of  Edward  VI.  in  England.  They  are  imported,  as  we 
may  see  by  newspaper  advertisements,  simply  from  the 
magazines  of  France  and  of   Belgium,  according  to  the 


Chap.  VIII.]  THEIR   NOVELTY.  183 

last  fashions  of  Brussels  or  Paris.  They  represent,  tliei-e- 
fore,  in  their  actual  adoption,  merely  the  usages  of  these 
foreign  modern  Churches,  and  nothing  else.  Indeed,  we 
may  say  they  are  copied  with  almost  Chinese  exactness 
of  imitation,  even  to  their  rents  and  patches.  An  in- 
stance my  be  selected  which  does  not  belong  at  present 
to  the  disputed  category,  but  which  therefore  will  the 
better  illustrate  the  question,  —  the  modern  practice  of 
cutting  off  the  surplice  at  the  knees.  This,  assuredly  not 
copied  from  either  Jewish  or  primitive  ceremonial,  is 
the  exact  copy  of  the  surplice  of  the  modern  Roman 
Church,  but  of  that  garment  mider  peculiar  conditions. 
It  has  been  said,  on  good  authority,  that  originally  the 
Roman  surplice  reached  to  the  feet,  but  that  the  lower 
part  was  of  lace  ;  then  that  the  lace,  being  too  expen- 
sive, was  cut  away,  and  so  left  the  surplice  in  that  state, 
of  which  this  economical  curtailment  has  been  adopted- 
as  the  model  of  English  usage. 

We  do  not  say  that  this  peculiarity  is  calculated  to 
render  them  less  odious  to  popular  feeling  ;  but  it  at 
once  clears  away  a  mass  of  useless  declamation,  either 
for  or  against,  which  we  find  in  speeches,  petitions,  and 
pamphlets.  And  it  is  more  important  to  notice  this,  be- 
cause the  dislike  to  untimely  innovations  or  foreign  cos- 
tumes rests  on  a  larger  basis  than  concerns  the  particular 
clothes  which  have  been  introduced  during  the  last  ten 
years.  A  surplice  adopted  suddenly  where  a  gown  has 
hitherto  been  worn  has  provoked  an  opposition  quite  as 
violent,  and  has  been,  defended  with  a  tenacity  quite  as 
exaggerated,  as  has  been  shown  with  regard  to  the  more 
fanciful  vestments  of  latter  days.  The  cope,  which,  ac- 
cording to  some  of  the  fine-drawn  distinctions,  both  of 
enemies  and  of  friends,  is  not  supposed  to  be  "  sacrifi- 
cial," would  produce  quite  as  much  consternation  in  a 
rustic    parish,  or    even    in    a  country  cathedral,  as   the 


184  ECCLESIASTICAL    DRESSES.  [CiiAr.  VIII. 

chasuble,  which  is  alleged  to  be  "  sacrificial."  It  is  the 
foreign,  unusual,  defiant,  and,  if  so  be,  illegal  introduc- 
tion of  these  things  which  constitutes  their  offence. 

V.  Taking  these  practical  principles  as  our  guide,  we 
proceed  to  ask  what,  under  our  actual  circumstances,  is 
the  best  course  to  pursue  with  regard  to  these  usages. 

1.  First,  it  would  seem  to  be  the  duty  of  every  one  who 
is  a  voice  and  not  merely  an  echo  to  proclaim  their  ab- 
importance  solute  indifference  and  triviality,  w^en  com- 
rn°thririnl  pi^i^^cl  with  matters  of  seinous  religion.  It  was 
difference,  g^^^j^  -^y.  ^  gx-eat  diviue,  some  thirty  years  ago, 
that  it  was  the  peculiar  blot  of  factions  or  parties  in  the 
Church  of  England  to  have  foucrht,  as  for  matters  of  ira- 
portance,  for  this  or  that  particular  kind  of  dress.  The 
remark  is  true.  Thrice  over  has  the  English  Church 
been  distracted  by  a  vestiarian  controversy  —  first,  at 
the  Reformation,  when  Bishop  Hooper  refused  to  wear  a 
square  cap  because  God  had  made  beads  round ;  sec- 
ondly, in  the  controversy  between  Laud  and  the  Puri- 
tans ;  and,  thirdly,  in  our  own  time,  beginning  with 
the  Exeter  riots  of  1840,  and  continuing  even  now. 
No  such  controversy  has  ever  distracted  either  the 
Church  of  Rome,  or  the  Church  of  Luther,  or  the 
Church  of  Calvin.  It  is  high  time  to  see  whether  we 
could  not  now,  once  and  forever,  dispel  the  idea  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  or  "  the  workshop  of  Satan,"  consists 
in  the  color  of  a  coat,  or  the  shape  of  a  cloak,  or  the  use 
of  a  handkerchief.  Viewed  merely  in  a  doctrinal  point 
of  view,  no  more  deadly  blow  could  be  struck  at  the 
ceremonial,  and  what  may  be  called  the  Etruscan  theory 
of  religion,  than  to  fill  the  atmosphere  with  the  sense 
of  the  entire  insignificance  of  dresses  or  postures.  To 
speak  of  them  as  of  no  significance  is  the  true  transla- 
tion of  the  great  maxim  of  the  Apostle,  —  "  Circumcision 
availeth  nothing,  nor  uncircumcision.^^ 


Chap.  VIII.]  THE   ORNAMENTS'    RUBRIC.  185 

2.  Secondly,   if    this    absolute  adiaphorism    could    be 
made  to  take  possession  of  the  popular  mind,  our  course 
would  be  very  much  cleared.     We  might  then  TheOma- 
view  more  calmly  the  legal  aspect  of  the  ques-  ™f°'^'^"* 
tion,  as  depending  on  the  validity  and  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Ornaments'  Rubric.    This  ingenious  obscurity 
is  a  singular  example,  either  of  the  disingenuousness  or 
of  the  negligence  with  which  the  Prayer  Book  was  re- 
constructed during  the  passionate  period  of  the  Resto- 
ration. 

But  supposing  that  it  should  be  decided  once  and 
again  that  the  rubric  forbids  the  use  of  these  vestments, 
the  fact  of  their  historical  insignificance  would  be  a  con- 
solation to  those  who,  willing  to  obey  the  law,  would 
thus  be  constrained  to  give  up  what  the  usage  of  some 
years  has  no  doubt  endeared  to  them.  They  would  feel 
then  that  they  were  not  surrendering  any  principle,  but 
merely  a  foreign  custom,  which  having  been  introduced, 
let  us  hope,  with  the  innocent  motive  of  beautifying  pub- 
lic woi'ship,  they  abandoned  as  good  citizens  and  good 
Churchmen,  when  the  law  declared  against  it ;  and  that  in 
so  doing  they  were  parting  with  a  practice  which  had  no 
other  intrinsic  value  than  what  belongs  to  an  antiquarian 
reminiscence  of  that  early  age  of  the  Church  when  there 
was  no  distinction  between  clergy  and  laity,  between 
common  and  ecclesiastical  life,  and  that  the  only  histor- 
ical association  legitimately  connected  with  it  was  the 
most  anti-sacerdotal  —  the  most  Pi'otestant  —  that  Chris- , 
tian  antiquity  has  handed  down  to  us. 

And  on  the  other  hand,  if  it  should  be  decided  that 
the  rubric  requires  these  vestments  to  be  worn,  then 
again,  to  those  who  have  hitherto  objected  to  them,  it 
would  be  no  less  a  consolation  to  know  that  such  a  re- 
quirement did  not  enforce  the  use  of  anything  which 
symbolized  a  doctrine  either  of  the  Real  Presence  or  of 


186  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

the  priesthood,  but  was  simply  the  last  English,  or,  if  so 
be,  the  last  Parisian  development  of  the  shirts  and  coats 
and  rugs  of  the  peasants  and  gentry  of  tlie  third  cen- 
tury. And  in  this  contingency,  two  considerations  oc- 
cur which  might  mitigate  what  to  some  persons  would 
appear  to  be  a  serious  grievance.  The  first  is  that  if 
these  clothes  should  be  declared  legal,  the  probability  is 
that  the  interest  attaching  to  them  would  almost  entirely 
cease.  Half  of  the  excitement  they  now  produce,  both 
in  those  who  defend  and  those  who  attack  them,  is  from 
the  belief  that  they  are,  more  or  less,  contrary  to  the 
law.  Whatever  the  Supreme  Court  of  Appeal  takes 
under  its  patronage  loses,  in  the  eyes  of  many  zealous 
clergy,  its  special  ecclesiastical  value.  When,  for  ex- 
ample, the  Credence  Table  was  legalized  and  shown  to 
be  not  an  appendage  to  an  altar,  but  a  sideboard  on 
which  the  dishes  were  placed,  in  order  to  be  tasted  be- 
fore being  set  on  the  table,  with  the  view  of  seeing 
whether  they  contained  poison,  that  part  of  the  cliurch 
furniture  ceased  to  be  a  bone  of  contention.  Even  the 
cope  has  comparatively  lost  its  interest  since  it  was  com- 
manded by  the  Privy  Council ;  just  as  it  may  be  fairly 
doubted  whether  the  significance  of  the  eastward  position 
can  stand  the  shock  given  when  it  is  found  that  one  of 
the  solitary  witnesses  to  it  in  the  past  generation  was 
Bishop  Maltby,  the  Whig  of  Whigs,  the  Protestant  of 
Protestants,  the  recipient  of  the  famous  Durham  letter. 
There  is  a  story  of  a  distinguished  prelate  now  deceased 
which  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  probable  action  of  the 
law.  A  clergyman,  who  liad  contended  in  his  village 
church  for  various  points  of  ceremonial,  at  last  ventured 
to  ask,  with  fear  and  trembling,  whether  "  his  lordship 
could  allow  the  choristers  to  appear  in  surplices."  "  By 
all  means,"  said  the  bishop,  "  let  them  appear  in  sur- 
plices—  it  will  help  to  degrade  that  vestment."     What 


Chap.  VIII.]  THE   ORNAMENTS'    RUBRIC.  187 

he  meant,  of  coui-se,  was  that  the  surplice  would  then 
lose  its  peculiar  sacerdotal  significance  ;  and  certainly  the 
legalizing  of  any  dress  by  the  Protestant  Legislature  of 
England  would  immediately  place  such  dress  on  a  foot- 
ing and  in  a  light  which  would  admit  of  no  misconcep- 
tion as  to  what  was  intended  or  not  intended  by  it. 

And,  if  the  law  should  be  thus  pronounced,  it  would 
then  iu  all  probability  become  a  matter  of  practical  con- 
sideration whether  an  ancient  and  difficult  rubric,  thus 
suddenly  revived,  could  be  expected  to  be  universally 
put  in  force  throughout  the  country,  and  would  thus 
open  the  door  to  the  intervention  of  that  principle  which 
is  so  well  laid  down  in  Canon  Robertson's  book,  "  How 
shall  we  Conform  to  the  Liturgy  ?  "  and  in  the  succession 
of  admirable  articles  in  the  "  Quarterly  Review  "  on  the 
same  subject  —  namely,  that,  in  the  matter  of  these 
ancient  rubrical  observances,  common  sense  and  charity 
and  the  discretion  of  the  Ordinary  must  come  in  to 
modify  and  accommodate  rigid  rules  which  otherwise 
would  produce  a  dead-lock  in  every  office  of  the  Church. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  cope,  even  since  the  recent  de- 
cision in  its  favor,  has,  except  in  a  few  special  cases,  been 
hardly  worn  at  all.  There  has  not  been  throughout  the 
whole  Church  more  than  three  or  four  instances  of  def- 
erence to  this  reanimated  ghost.  And  with  regard  to  a 
much  larger  assortment  of  clerical  vestments,  but  resting 
on  the  same  authority  as  the  cope,  —  namely,  the  Canons 
of  1604,  —  it  may  be  safely  asserted  that  not  one  clergy- 
man in  ten  thousand  ever  wears  or  thinks  of  wearing  any 
of  them.  Those  canons  command  every  clergyman,  in 
walking  or  travelling,  to  appear  in  "  a  gown  with  a  stand- 
ing collar,"  or  in  "a  tippet  of  silk  or  sarcenet,"  and  on 
no  account  to  wear  a  cloak  with  long  sleeves,  and  es- 
pecially "  not  to  wear  light-colored  stockings."  This  74th 
Canon  is  everywhere  disregarded,  and  though  it  contains 


188  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  YITI. 

tlie  sensible  remark  that  "  its  meanins;  is  not  to  attribute 
any  holiness  or  special  worthiness  to  the  said  garments  " 
(the  very  principle  for  which  we  have  been  contending), 
"  but  for  decency,  gravity,  and  order  ;  "  yet  it  is  not  less 
precise  in  its  enactments  than  the  58th  and  24th  Canons, 
and  must  stand  or  fall  with  them.  It  may  be  quoted  on 
this  occasion  to  show  how  completely  and  irrevocably  cus- 
tom has  been  allowed  to  override  a  rule,  which  is  not,  in- 
deed, properly  sjjeaking,  the  law  of  the  Church  (being 
only  a  canon  and  not  a  statute),  but  by  which,  neverthe- 
less, it  has  been  often  attempted  in  these  matters  to  pro- 
vide that  the  laws  of  the  Church  shall  be  regulated. 

And  this,  perhaps,  is  the  place  for  considering  the 
question  whether,  supposing  that  the  existing  law  fail 
useiessnesB  either  from  obscui'ity  or  obsoleteness  to  control 
of  rubrics.  ^^^  present  usage,  it  is  desirable  to  pass  a  new 
legislative  enactment  which  shall  lay  down  precisely 
what  clothes  are  or  are  not  to  be  worn  by  the  clergy, 
inside  or  outside  their  official  ministrations.  The  same 
principle  of  the  intrinsic  indifference  of  these  things 
which  we  have  laid  down  will  help  us  here  to  a  right  solu- 
tion. If  we  can  once  resolve  that  the  question  of  clerical, 
as  of  all  dress,  is  simpl}'  a  matter  of  custom  and  fashion, 
or,  as  the  T4th  Canon  says,  of  "  decency,  gravity,  and 
order,"  then  we  may  safely  venture  to  say  that  to  enu- 
merate any  catalogue  or  wardrobe  of  such  clothes  either 
in  an  Act  of  Parliament,  or  even  in  a  canon,  would  be 
entirely  unworthy  of  the  dignity  of  an  Act  of  the  Leg- 
islature or  even  of  the  Convocations.  It  would  be  un- 
worthy, and  (unless  it  entered  into  details  which  would 
be  absolutely  ridiculous)  it  would  soon  be  utterly  use- 
less. For  who  can  now  say  exactly  what  it  is  which 
constitutes  a  legal  cope  or  chasuble,  or  the  legal  length 
of  a  surplice,  or  "guards,  and  welts,  and  cuts,"  or  "a 
coif,  or  wrought  night-cap  ?  "     And  the  total  failure  of 


Chap.  VIII.]  USELESSNESS   OF   RUBRICS.  189 

the  canon  just  cited  proves  how'inevitably  such  rules 
fall  into  hopeless  desuetude  after  a  few  years.  Nor 
would  such  enumeration  be  necessaiy.  One  advantage 
of  the  deep  obscurity  of  the  Ornaments'  Rubric  has  been 
that  it  has  shown  us  how  possible  it  is  for  a  Church  (ex- 
cept in  occasional  excitements)  to  exist  without  any  rule 
at  all  on  the  subject.  Not  a  single  garment  is  named  by 
name  in  that  rubric,  nor  in  any  part  of  the  Prayer  Book 
from  beginning  to  end  ;  ^  and  yet  on  the  whole  a  comely 
and  decent  order  has  been  observed  in  the  Eno-lish 
Church,  only  with  such  change  as  the  silent  lapse  of  time 
necessarily  brings  with  it.  And  it  should  be  observed 
that  in  the  Irish  Church  before  its  recent  calamities,  in 
the  American  Episcopal  Church,  and  in  the  Established 
Church  of  Scotland,  not  even  the  shadow  of  the  Orna- 
ments' Rubric  exists,  nor  anything  analogous  to  it.  Cus- 
tom, and  custom  alone,  has  provided  the  white  gown,  the 
black  gown,  the  blue  gown,  as  the  case  may  be.  To 
this  easy  yoke,  and  to  this  safe  guide  of  custom  and 
common  sense,  we  also  might  safely  commit  ourselves. 

3.  This  leads  us  to  another  obvious  conclusion.  If 
there  be  no  intrinsic  value  in  these  vestments,  then, 
whether  the  law  forbids  them  or  enforces  them. 

Folly  of  in- 

the  same  duty  is  incumbent  on  all  those  who  troducmg 

^  _     ,  ,  vestments. 

regard  the  substance  of  religion  above  its  forms, 
namely,  that  on  no  account  should  these  garbs,  whether 
legal  or  illegal,  be  introduced  into  churches  or  parishes 
where  they  give  offence  to  the  parish  or  the  congrega- 
tion. The  more  any  clergj^man  can  appreciate  the  ab- 
solute indifference  of  such  things  in  themselves,  the  more 
will  he  feel  himself  compelled  to  withdraw  them  the 
moment  he  finds  that  they  produce  the  opposite  effect 

1  The  only  exception  is  not  in  the  Prayer  Book  itself,  but  in  the  single  office 
of  the  Consecration  of  a  Bishop,  and  in  that  there  is  no  mention  of  lawn  sleeves 
or  chimere,  but  only  of  the  "rochet." 


190  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

to  that  which  he  intended  theni  to  have.  On  the  ne- 
cessity of  sucli  a  restriction,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  believe 
that  many  even  of  those  whose  opinions  rather  incline 
them  to  tliese  peculiar  usages,  would  mcjre  or  less  concur. 
Quarrels  produced  in  parishes  by  such  trivial  causes 
ought  to  be  stifled  instantly  and  at  once.  The  game, 
however  delightful,  of  maintaining  these  vestments,  is 
not  worth  the  burning  the  candle  of  discord  even  for  a 
single  moment  in  a  single  parish.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  regards  those  congregations,  where  no  offence  is 
given,  it  seems  to  be  "  straining  at  a  gnat  and  swallowing 
a  camel,"  whilst  we  freely  allow  (and  no  one  is  disposed 
to  curtail  the  legal  liberty)  the  preaching  and  practising 
of  the  most  extravagant  —  the  most  uncharitable  —  the 
most  senseless  doctrines,  on  whatever  side,  to  stumble  at 
permitting  a  few  congregations  here  and  there  to  indulge 
themselves  in  the  pleasure  of  a  few  colors  and  a  few 
shapes  to  which  we  know  with  absolute  certainty  that 
no  religious  significance  is  intrinsically  attached  ;  and  of 
which  any  significance,  that  may  be  imagined  to  be  at- 
tached to  them  by  those  who  use  them,  can  be  equally 
or  better  expressed  by  garments  of  quite  another  make, 
and  by  ceremonies  of  quite  another  kind. 

If  we  are  really  desirous  of  resisting  the  malady  of 
reactionary  hierarchical  sentiment,  let  us  grapple  not 
with  these  superficial  and  ambiguous  symptoms,  but  with 
the  disease  itself.  The  refusal  to  acknowledge  State 
interference  with  Church  affairs,  whether  on  the  part  of 
Roman  Ultramontanes,  Scottish  Free  Churchmen,  or 
English  Liberationists  ;  the  exciting  speeches  of  so-called 
Liberal  candidates  to  miscalled  Liberal  constituents  on 
behalf  of  what  they  choose  to  call  spiritual  indepen- 
dence ;  the  attempts  from  time  to  time  by  legal  prosecu- 
tion, or  angry  declamation,  to  stifle  free  critical  inquiry 
in  the  Church  of  England  ;  the  refusal  to  acknowledge 


Chap.  VIII.]      ATTENTION    TO   IMPORTANT   MATTERS.  191 

the  pastoral  character  of  our  Wesleyan  or  Nonconform- 
ing brethren ;  the  tendency  to  encourage  a  material 
rather  than  a  moral  and  spiritual  view  of  Christian  ordi- 
nances; the  reading  of  the  services  of  the  Cliurch  inaud- 
ibly  and  unintelligibly,  in  imitation  of  a  Church  which 
employs  a  dead  language,  —  all  these  endeavors,  C(ni- 
ducted  with  however  conscientious  a  desire  to  do  good, 
and  however  justified  by  certain  elements  in  the  Church 
of  England,  or  in  human  nature — are  more  hostile  to 
the  true  spirit  of  the  Reformation  than  any  evanescent 
fashions  of  clerical  costun^e,  which  perish  with  the  using. 
Even  to  the  most  extreme  Puritan  and  to  the  most  ex- 
treme Calvinist,  we  venture  to  quote,  in  justification  of 
an  exceptional  toleration  in  these  trivial  matters,  the 
saying  of  the  great  John  Calvin  himself,  "  They  are  tol- 
erahiles  ineptice.'" 

4.  Finally,  it  would  be  a  clear  gain  to  the  interests  of 
practical,  moral,  and  spiritual  religion,  if  by  granting 
all  feasible  toleration  to  these  innocent  archa-  Attention  to 
isms  in  a  few  eccentric  places,  the  majority  of  reaffrnport- 
Churchmen  could  be  left  free  to  pursue  the  '*"°*'' 
improvements  which  the  Church  and  nation  so  urgently 
need,  and  which  have  hitherto  been  defeated  by  the  dis- 
proportionate and  inordinate  attention  devoted  both  by 
friends  and  enemies  to  this  insignificant  point.  What 
is  really  wanted,  both  for  the  good  of  the  Church  and 
as  the  best  corrective  to  the  superstitious  and  materializ- 
ing tendency  which  many  of  us  deplore,  is  not  an  at- 
tempt to  restrain  particular  external  usages,  except,  as 
before  remarked,  when  they  give  offence  to  the  parish- 
ioners ;  but,  regardless  of  any  threats,  to  aim  at  such 
improvements  as  would  be  desirable,  even  if  there  were 
not  a  single  Ritualist  in  existence  ;  to  develop  the  Prot- 
estant elements  of  the  Church,  which  are  stunted  and 
dwarfed  from  tlie  fear   of   offending  those  who,  whilst 


192  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

they  demand  for  themselves  a  liberty  which  liberal 
Churchmen  have  always  endeavored  to  gain  for  them, 
have  hitherto  too  often  refused  to  concede  the  slightest 
liberty  to  others. 

The  real  evils  of  this  tendency,  whether  in  the  Eng- 
lish or  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  which  threatens 
to  swallow  up  the  larger,  freer,  more  reasonable  spirit 
which  existed  in  both  Churches  fifty  years  ago,  are  ob- 
vious. The  encouragement  of  a  morbid  dependence  on 
the  priesthood  ;  a  vehement  antagonism  to  the  law  ;  ex- 
cessive value  attached  to  the  technical  forms  of  theology 
and  ritual ;  a  revival  of  a  scholastic  phraseology  which 
has  lost  its  meaning ;  a  passion  for  bitter  controversy 
and  for  exaggeration  of  differences,  —  all  these  evils  are 
for  the  most  part  beyond  the  reach  of  legal  or  ecclesi- 
astical tribunals,  and  can  only  be  met,  as  they  can  be 
fully  met,  first  by  fearless  and  dispassionate  argument, 
but  secondly  and  chiefly  by  the  encouragement  of  a 
healthier  tone  in  the  public  mind  and  clerical  opinion, 
as  at  once  a  corrective  and  a  counterpoise.  What  is 
needed  is  not  to  exterminate,  but  to  act  independently  of, 
the  party  which  have  so  often  obstructed  improvement 
by  mere  clamor  and  menace.  The  controversy  concern- 
ing the  lesser  points  of  ceremonial  has  too  much  diverted 
the  public  attention  from  the  substance  to  the  accidents. 
The  adherents  of  these  vestments  count  amongst  their 
ranks  the  wise  and  the  foolish,  the  serious  and  the  friv- 
olous. Let  them,  in  their  own  special  localities,  when 
they  do  not  impose  their  own  fancies  upon  unwilling 
listeners  or  spectators,  by  these  colors  and  forms,  do  their 
best  and  their  worst.  Let  tliem  add,  if  so  be,  the  pea- 
cocks' feathers  which  the  Pope  borrowed  from  the  Kings 
of  Persia,  or  the  scarlet  shoes  which  he  took  from  the 
Roman  Emperors.  Let  them  freely  have,  if  the  law 
allows  it,  the  liberty  of  facing  to  any  point  of  the  com- 


CiiAp.  VIII.]      ATTENTION   TO   IMPORTANT   MATTERS.  193 

pass  they  desire  —  with  Mussulmans  to  the  east,  with 
the  Pope  to  the  west,  with  Hindoos  to  the  north,  or 
with  old-fashioned  Anglicans  to  the  south.  This  is  no 
more  than  is  deserved  by  the  zeal  of  some  ;  it  is  no  more 
than  may  be  safely  conceded  to  the  scruples  of  all  who 
can  be  indulged  without  vexing  the  consciences  of  others. 
But  then  let  those  also  who  take  another  view  of  the 
main  attractions  of  religion  be  permitted  to  enjoy  the 
liberty  which,  till  thirty  years  ago,  was  freely  permitted. 
Let  the  rules  which,  if  rendered  inflexible,  cripple  the 
energies  of  the  Church  and  mar  its  usefulness  be  relaxed 
by  some  machinery  such  as  was  in  use  in  former  times, 
before  the  modern  creation  of  the  almost  insuperable 
obstructions  of  the  majorities  of  the  four  Houses  of  Con- 
vocation. Let  each  Bishop  or  Ordinary  have  the  legal 
power,  subject  to  any  checks  which  Parliament  will  im- 
pose, of  sanctioning  what  is  almost  universally  allowed 
to  pass  unchallenged.  Let  us  endeavor  to  abate  those 
prolongations  and  repetitions  which  have  made  our  ser- 
vices, contrary  to  the  intention  of  their  framers,  a  by- 
word at  home  and  abroad.  Let  us  endeavor  to  secure 
that  there  shall  be  the  option  of  omitting  the  ques- 
tionable though  interesting  document  whose  most  char- 
acteristic passages  one  of  the  two  Convocations  has  vir- 
tually abjured.  Let  us  permit,  o]3enly  or  tacitly,  the 
modifications  in  the  rubrics  of  the  Baptismal,  the  Mar- 
riage, the  Commination,  and  the  Ordination  Services, 
which  ought  to  be  an  offence  to  none,  and  would  be  an 
immense  relief  to  many.  Let  us  seek  the  means  of  ena- 
bling the  congregations  of  the  National  Church  to  hear, 
not  merely,  as  at  present,  the  lectures,  but  the  sermons 
of  preachers  second  to  none  in  our  own  Church,  though 
at  present  not  of  it.  Let  us  be  firmly  persuaded  that 
error  is  most  easily  eradicated  by  establishing  truth,  and 
darkness  most  permanently  displaced  by  diffusing  light ; 

13 


194  ECCLESIASTICAL   DRESSES.  [Chap.  VIII. 

and  then  whilst  the  best  parts  of  the  High  Church  party 
will  be  preserved  to  the  Church  by  their  own  intrinsic 
excellence,  the  worst  parts  will  be  put  down,  not  by  the 
irritating  and  often  futile  process  of  repression,  but  by 
the  pacific  and  far  more  effectual  process  of  enforcing  the 
opposite  truths,  of  creating  in  the  Church  a  wholesome 
atmosphere  of  manly,  generous  feeling,  in  which  all  that 
is  temporary,  acrid,  and  trivial  will  fade  away,  and  all 
that  is  eternal,  reasonable,  and  majestic  will  flourish  and 
abound. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   BASILICA. 

What  was  the  original  idea  which  the  Christians  of 
the  first  centuries  conceived  of  a  place  of  worship  ? 
What  was  the  model  which  they  chose  for  themselves 
when,  on  emerging  from  the  Catacombs,  they  looked 
round  upon  the  existing  edifices  of  the  civilized  world  ? 

For  nearly  two  hundred  years,  set  places  of  worship 
had  no  existence  at  all.  In  the  third  century,  notices  of 
them  became  more  frequent,  but  still  in  such  ambiguous 
terms  that  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain  how  far  the  build- 
ing or  how  far  the  congregation  is  the  prominent  idea 
in  the  writer's  mind ;  and  it  is  not,  therefore,  till  the 
fourth  century,  when  they  became  so  general  as  to  ac- 
quire a  fixed  form  and  name,  that  our  inquiry  properly 
begins. 

Of  the  public  edifices  of  the  heathen  world,  there  were 
three  which  lent  themselves  to  the  Christian  use.  One 
was  the  circular  tomb.  This  was  seen  in  the  various 
forms  of  memorial  churches  which  from  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  spread  throughout  the  Empire.  But  this 
was  exceptional.  Another  was  the  Temple.  Though 
occasionally  adopted  by  the  Eastern  Emperors,^  and  in 
some  few  instances,  as  the  Pantheon,  at  Rome  itself,  it 
was  never  incorporated  into  the  institutions  of  Western 
Christendom.  It  was  not  only  that  all  its  associations, 
both  of  name  and  place,  jarred  with  the  most  cherished 

1  Bingham,  viii.  2,  4.  The  Egyptian  temples  were  many  of  them  so  used; 
as  at  Athens  the  Parthenon  and  the  Temple  of  Theseus. 


196  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  IX. 

notions  of  Christian  purity  and  holiness,  but  also  that 
the  very  construction  of  the  edifice  was  wholly  incompat- 
ible with  the  new  idea  of  worship,  which  Christianity 
had  brought  into  the  world.  The  Temple  of  Isis  at 
Pompeii  (to  tuke  the  most  complete  specimen  now  ex- 
tant of  a  heathen  temple  at  the  time  of  the  Christian 
era)  at  once  exhibits  the  impossibility  of  amalgamating 
elements  so  heterogeneous.  It  was  exactly  in  accordance 
with  the  genius  of  heathenism,  that  the  pi-iest  should 
minister  in  the  presence  of  the  God,  withdrawn  from 
view  in  the  little  cell  or  temple  that  rose  in  the  centre  of 
the  consecrated  area;  but  how  should  the  president  of 
the  Christian  assembly  be  concealed  from  the  vast  con- 
course in  whose  name  he  acted,  and  who,  as  with  the 
voice  of  many  waters,  were  to  reply  "  Amen  "  to  his  giv- 
ing of  thanks  ?  It  was  most  congenial  to  the  feeling  of 
Pagan  worshippers  that  they  should  drop  in,  one  by  one, 
or  in  separate  groups,  to  present  their  individual  prayers 
or  offerings  to  their  chosen  divinity ;  but  how  was  a 
Christian  congregation,  which,  by  its  very  name  of  eccle- 
sia,  recalled  the  image  of  those  tumultuous  crowds  which 
had  thronged  the  Pnyx  or  Forum  in  the  days  of  the 
Athenian  or  Roman  Commonwealth,  to  be  brought 
within  the  narrow  limits  of  the  actual  edifice  which  was 
supposed  to  be  the  dwelling  of  the  God?  Even  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem  itself,  pure  as  it  was  from  the  rec- 
ollections which  invested  the  shrines  of  the  heathen  dei- 
ties, yet  from  its  darkness,  its  narrowness,  and  the  inac- 
cessibility of  its  innermost  cell,  was  obviously  inadequate 
to  become  the  visible  home  of  a  religion  to  which  the 
barriers  of  Judaism  were  hardly  less  uncongenial  than 
those  of  Paganism  itself.  A  temple,  whether  heathen 
or  Jewish,  could  never  be  the  model  of  a  purely  Christian 
edifice.  The  very  name  itself  had  now,  in  Christian 
phraseology,  passed  into  a  higher  sphere ;  and  however 


Chap.  IX.]  ITS  FORM.  197 

mucli  long  use  may  have  "habituated  us  to  the  application 
of  the  word  to  material  buildings,  we  can  well  under- 
stand how  instinctively  an  earlier  age  would  shrink  from 
any  lower  meaning  than  the  moral  and  spiritual  sense 
attached  to  it  in  those  Apostolical  Writings  which  had 
taught  the  world  that  the  true  temple  of  God  was  in  the 
hearts  and  consciences  of  men.  And  therefore,  in  the 
words  of  Bingham,  "for  the  first  three  ages  the  name  is 
scarce  ever  "  (he  might  have  said  never)  "  applied  to 
Christian  places  of  worship ; "  and  though  instances  of 
it  are  to  be  found  in  the  rhetorical  language  of  the  fourth, 
yet  it  never  obtained  a  hold  on  the  ordinary  language  of 
Christendom.  The  use  of  the  word  in  Roman  Catholic 
countries  for  Protestant  churches  is  probably  dictated  by 
the  desire  to  represent  the  Protestant  service  as  heathen. 
What,  then,  was  the  ancient  heathen  structure,  whose 
title  has  thus  acquired  a  celebrity  so  far  beyond  its  origi- 
nal intention  ?     It  is  the  especial  offsprino;  and 

...         r  /-,  1      •       •         l"'^*^  Basilica. 

sjanbol  of  Western  civilization  ;  —  Greek  in  its 
origin,  Roman  in  its  progress,  Christian  in  its  ultimate 
development,  the  word  is  coextensive  with  the  range  of 
the    European    familv.     In    the    earliest    form 

1-1  ''i  '  (...Its  form. 

under  which  we  can  catch  any  trace  of  it,  it 
stands  in  the  dim  antiquity  of  the  Homeric  age — at  the 
point  where  the  first  beginnings  of  Grecian  civilization 
melt  away  into  the  more  primitive  forms  of  Oriental  so- 
ciety. It  is  the  gateway  of  the  Royal  Palace,  in  which 
the  ancient  Kings,  Agamemnon  at  Mycenae,  David  at 
Jerusalem,  Pharaoh  at  Thebes  or  Memphis,  sat  to  hear 
and  to  judge  the  complaints  of  their  people;  and  of  which 
the  trace  1  was  preserved  at  Athens  in  the  "King's  Por- 
tico"   under   the   Pnyx,  where  the  Archon    King   per- 

1  It  is  perhaps  doubtful  how  far  the  form  of  the  word  "Basilica,"  though  of 
course  itself  purelj^  Greek,  was  ever  used  with  this  acceptation  in  Greece  itself. 
Sroa  (ffao-iAe'ws  is  the  designation  of  the  Athenian  portico,  and  o'kos  or  voms  /?a<ri- 
Ae'cos  is  Eusebius'  expression  for  the  Christian  Basilica. 


198  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  IX. 

formed  the  last  judicial  functions  of  the  last  shadow  of 
the  old  Atlienian  roj^alty.  But  it  was  amongst  the  Ro- 
mans that  it  first  assumed  that  precise  form  and  meaning 
which  have  given  it  so  lasting  an  importance.  Judging 
from  the  great  prominence  of  the  Basilicas  as  public 
buildings,  and  from  the  more  extended  application  of 
them  in  the  Imperial  times  to  purposes  of  general  busi- 
ness, the  nearest  parallel  to  them  in  modern  cities  would 
doubtless  be  found  in  the  Town-hall  or  Exchange. 
What,  in  fact,  the  rock-hewn  semicircle  of  the  Pnyx  was 
at  Athens  —  what  the  open  platform  of  the  Forum  had 
been  in  the  earlier  days  of  Rome  itself  ^  —  that,  in  the 
later  times  of  the  Commonwealth,  was  the  Basilica  — 
the  general  place  of  popular  resort  and  official  transac- 
tions; but,  in  accordance  with  the  increased  refinement 
of  a  more  civilized  age,  protected  from  the  midday  sun 
and  the  occasional  storm  by  walls  and  roof.  There  was 
a  long  hall  divided  by  two  rows  of  columns  into  a  cen- 
tral avenue,  with  two  side  aisles,  in  one  of  which  the 
male,  in  the  other  the  female  appellants  to  justice  waited 
their  turn.  The  middle  aisle  was  occupied  by  the  chance 
crowd  that  assembled  to  hear  the  proceedings,  or  for  pur- 
poses of  merchandise.  A  transverse  avenue  which  crossed 
the  others  in  the  centre,  if  used  at  all,  was  occupied  by 
the  advocates  and  others  engaged  in  the  public  business. 
The  whole  building  was  closed  by  a  long  semicircular  re- 
cess, in  the  centre  of  which  sat  the  prsetor  or  supreme 
judge,  seen  high  above  the  heads  of  all  on  the  elevated^ 

1  The  Tynwald  in  the  Isle  of  Man  is  an  exact  likeness  still  existing  of  these 
early  assemblies  in  the  open  air. 

2  The  "judgment-hall  "  or  prffitorium  of  the  Roman  magistrates  in  the  prov- 
jnces  had  no  further  resemblance  to  the  Basilica  than  in  the  coincidence  of  name 
■which  must  have  arisen  from  their  frequent  formation  out  of  the  palaces  of  the 
former  kings  of  the  conquered  nations.  But  so  necessary  was  the  elevation  of 
the  judge's  scat  considered  to  the  final  delivery  of  the  sentence,  that,  as  has  been 
made  familiar  to  us  in  one  memorable  instance  (John  xix.  13),  the  absence  of 
the  usual  ti'ibunal  was  supplied  by  a  tesselated  pavement,  which  the  magistrate 
carried  with  him,  and  on  which  his  chair  or  throne  was  placed  before  he  could 
pronounce  sentence. 


Chap.  IX.]  ITS   ADAPTATION.  199 

"  tribunal,"  which  was  deemed  the  indispensable  symbol 
of  the  Roman  judgment-seat. 

This  was  the  form  of  the  Basilica,  as  it  met  the  view 
of  the  first  Christians.  Few  words  are  needed  to  account 
for  its  adaptation  to    the   use    of   a    Christian 

^  _  ^  ^  Its  adapta- 

church.     Something,  no  doubt,  is  to  be  ascribed,  tion  to oiiris- 

"  tian  worship. 

as  Dean  Mil  man  well  remarks,  to  the  fact,^  that 
"  as  these  buildings  were  numerous,  and  attached  to  any 
imperial  residence,  they  might  be  bestowed  at  once  on 
the  Christians  without  either  interfering  with  the  course 
of  justice,  or  bringing  the  religious  feelings  of  the  hostile 
parties  into  collision."  Still,  the  instances  of  actual 
transformation  are  exceedingly  rare  —  in  most  cases  it 
must  have  been  impossible,  from  the  erection  of  the  early 
Christian  churches  on  the  graves,  real  or  supposed,  of 
martyrs  and  apostles,  which,  according  to  the  almost  uni- 
versal practice  of  the  ancient  world,  were  necessarily 
without  the  walls  of  tlie  city,  as  the  halls  of  justice, 
from  their  connection  with  every-day  life,  were  necessa- 
rily within.  It  is  on  more  general  grounds  that  we  may 
trace  something  in  the  type  itself  of  the  Basilica,  at  least 
not  uncongenial  to  the  early  Christian  views  of  worship, 
independent  of  any  causes  of  mere  accidental  conven- 
ience. What  this  was  has  been  anticipated  in  what  has 
been  said  of  the  rejection  of  the  temple.  There  was  now 
a  "church,"  a  "congregation,"  an  "assembly,"  which 
could  no  longer  be  hemmed  within  the  narrow  precincts, 
or  detained  in  the  outer  courts  of  the  inclosure  —  where 
could  they  be  so  naturally  placed  as  in  the  long  aisles 
which  had  received  the  concourse  of  the  Roman  popu- 
lace, and  which  now  became  the  "  nave  "of  the  Christian 
Cathedrals  ?  Whatever  distinctions  existed  in  the  Chris- 
tian society  were  derived,  not  as  in  the  Jewish  temple, 
from  any  notions  of  inherent  religious  differences  between 

1  History  of  Christianity,  iii  343. 


200  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  [X. 

different  classes  of  men,  but  merely,  as  in  the  Jewish 
synagogue,  from  considerations  of  order  and  decency ; 
and  where  could  these  be  found  more  readily  than  in  the 
separate  places  still  retained  by  the  sexes  in  the  aisles  of 
the  Basilica ;  or  the  appropriation  of  the  upper  end  of 
the  building  to  the  clergy  and  singers  ?  There  was  a 
law  to  be  proclaimed,  and  a  verdict  to  be  pronounced,  by 
the  highest  officers  of  the  new  society ;  and  what  more 
natural,  than  that  the  Bishop  should  take  his  seat  on  the 
lofty  tribunal  of  the  praetor,!  and  thence  rebuke,  exhort, 
or  command,  with  an  authority  not  the  less  convincing, 
because  it  was  moral  and  not  legal  ?  There  was,  lastly, 
a  bond  of  communion  between  all  the  members  of  that 
assembly,  to  which  the  occupants  of  the  Temple  and  the 
Basilica  had  been  alike  strangers  —  what  more  fitting 
than  that  the  empt}'^  centre  of  the  ancient  judgment-hall, 
where  its  several  avenues  and  aisles  joined  in  one,  should 
now  receive  a  new  meaning ;  and  that  there,  neither  in 
the  choir  nor  nave,  but  in  the  meeting  point  of  both, 
should  be  erected  the  Altar  or  Table  of  that  communion 
which  was  to  belong  exclusively  neither  to  the  clergy  nor 
to  the  people,  but  to  bind  both  together  in  indissoluble 
harmony?^ 

1  The  Basilica  Jimiliana  and  the  Basilica  Julia  ■were  examples  in  the  Roman 
Forum  of  this  sort  of  edifice.  But  there  were  others  where  the  judicial  charac- 
ter was  more  strongly  impressed  on  the  building.  Such  were  the  Basilica  Ses- 
soriana,  now  converted  into  the  Church  of  Sta.  Croce  in  the  Sessorian  Palace  at 
Rome;  the  Basilica  Palatina,  still  to  be  traced  on  the  ruins  of  the  Palatine,  with 
its  apse  and  its  oblong  hall ;  the  Basilica  attached  to  the  palace  at  Treves,  and 
since  converted  into  a  Protestant  church  by  the  late  King  of  Prussia. 

2  The  "  atrium  "  and  "  impluvium  "  of  the  more  private  hall  seem  to  have  be- 
come the  models  of  the  outer  court  and  "  cantharus  "  or  fountain  of  the  Basilica. 
The  obvious  appropriation  of  the  seats  immediately  round  the  altar  to  the  em- 
peror and  his  attendants,  when  present,  is  preserved  in  the  probable  derivation 
of  "chancellor,"  from  the  "cancelli"  or  "rails,"  by  which  that  officer  sat.  In 
the  Eastern  Church  the  screen  of  the  Iconostasis,  which  now  divides  the  nave  from 
the  choir,  has  assumed  a  solid  shape  to  furnish  a  stand  for  the  increasing  multi- 
plication of  sacred  pictures.  But  originally  it  was  a  curtain,  then  a  light  trellis 
work.     And  in  the  Western  Church  it  has  never  intruded,  until  in  the  lifteenth 


Chat.  IX.]         POPULAR   CHARACTER   OF  THE   CHURCH.  201 

There  are  some  general  reflections  which  this  trans- 
formation suggests.  In  the  first  place,  it  may  no  doubt 
have  been  an  accident  that  the  first  Christian  place  of 
worship  should  have  been  taken  from  an  edifice  so  ex- 
pressive of  the  popular  life  of  Greece  and  Rome, — so 
exact  an  antithesis  to  the  seclusion  of  the  Jewish  and 
Pagan  Temple.  But,  if  it  was  an  accident,  it  is  strik- 
ingly in  accordance  with  all  that  we  know  of  the  strength 
of  the  popular  element  of  the  early  Church,  —  not  merely 
in  its  first  origin,  when  even  an  Apostle  did  not  pronounce 
sentence  on  an  offender,  or  issue  a  decree  or  appoint  an 
ofiicer,  without  the  concurrence  of  the  whole  so- 

,  ,  .  The  popular 

ciety  :   but  even  in  those  later  times,  when  Au-  character  of 

•^.  .  .  '  the  Church, 

gustine  fled  from  city  to  city  to  escape  from  the 
elevation  which  he  was  destined  to  receive  from  the  wild 
enthusiasm  of  an  African  populace ;  when  a  layman,  a 
magistrate,  an  unbaptized  catechumen  was,  on  the  chance 
acclamation  of  an  excited  mob,  transformed  into  Am- 
brose, Archbishop  of  Milan.  It  is  precisely  this  true  im- 
age of  the  early  Church,  the  union  of  essential  religious 
equality  with  a  growing  distinction  of  rank  and  order, 
that  the  Basilica  was  to  bring  before  us  in  a  visible  and 
tangible  shape.  It  might  have  been  unnatural,  if  the 
whole  constitution,  the  whole  religion  of  the  three  first 
centuries  was  wrapt  up  in  the  institution  of  Bishops, 
Priests,  and  Deacons  ;  but  it  could  not  have  been  deemed 
altogether  strange,  in  an  age  that  still  caught  the  echoes 

century,  for  quite  another  reason,  the  screen  was  introduced  to  hide  the  local 
shrine  of  the  saint,  as  at  St.  Albans  and  Westminster  Abbey  (if  so  be)  from  the 
eyes  of  common  worshippers.  The  altar  was  a  wooden  structure,  as  it  still  is  in 
the  Eastern  Church.  It  was  gradually  changed  to  stone  in  the  sixth  century, 
from  the  incorporation  of  a  relic  of  a  saint  inside,  and  the  wish  to  consider  it  as 
a  tomb  (see  Chapter  XI.).  What  was  therefore  once  its  universal  material  has 
since  thea  been  absolutely  forbidden  in  the  Roman  Church.  It  was  also  com- 
monly placed  in  the  middle  of  the  apse  of  the  cliurch.  The  modern  practice  of 
its  attachment  to  the  eastern  wall  was  absolutely  unknown.  Its  ancient  name 
was  "the  Table,"  by  which  it  is  still  always  called  in  the  East.     (See  Chapter 

m.) 


202  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  IX. 

of  that  contest  which  convulsed  the  early  Christian  so- 
ciety, between  the  last  expiring  efforts  of  the  popular 
element  of  the  Church  and  the  first  germ  of  the  rule  of 
the  clergy. 

Again,  the  rise  of  the  first  edifice  of  Christian  worship, 
not  out  of  the  Jewish  Temple,  nor  even  the  Jewish  Syn- 
The  secular  agog^^ie?  but  out  of  the  Roman  hall  of  justice, 
chnsMan  ^^J  ^^  regarded  as  no  inapt  illustration  of  an- 
usages.  other  fact  of  early  Christian  history.     We  are 

often  reminded  by  the  polemics  of  opposite  schools  of  the 
identity  of  early  Christian  customs  and  institutions  with 
those  of  the  older  dispensation.  Few  topics  have  been 
more  popular  in  modern  times,  whether  in  praise  or 
blame,  than  the  Judaic  character  of  the  worship,  ministry, 
and  teaching:  of  the  three  first  centuries.  But  the  in- 
disputable  share  which  the  Gentile  world  has  had  in  the 
material  buildings  of  the  Christian  Church,  suggests  a 
doubt  whether  it  may  not  have  also  contributed  some- 
thing to  the  no  less  complex  structure  of  its  moral  fabric. 
The  influence  of  Judaism  on  the  first  century  was  un- 
doubtedly very  great.  On  the  one  hand,  the  early  sects 
had  all  more  or  less  something  of  a  Judaizing  character  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  even  the  Apostles  could  not  have  been 
what  they  were  had  they  not  been  Jews.  But  the  fall 
of  Jerusalem  was  in  truth  the  fall  of  the  Jewish  world  ; 
it  was  a  reason  for  the  close  of  the  Apostolic  age  —  a 
death-blow  to  the  influence  of  the  Jewish  nationality  for 
a  long  time  to  come  on  the  future  fortunes  of  the  world 
at  large.  Something,  no  doubt,  both  of  its  form  and  spirit, 
lingered  on,  in  the  institutions  of  that  great  society  which 
sprung  out  of  its  ruins ;  but  however  much  the  mere 
ceremonial  and  superficial  aspect  of  the  Patristic  age 
may  bear  a  Jewish  physiognomy,  it  is  to  the  influences 
at  work  in  the  social  fabric  of  the  Roman  Empire  itself, 
that  we  must  seek  the  true  springs  of  action  in  the  Chris- 


Chap.  IX.]        SECULAR   ORIGIN   OF   CHRISTIAN   USAGES  203 

tian  Church,  —  so  far  as  they  came  from  any  foreign 
source.  It  is  therefore  with  something  more  than  a 
mere  artistical  interest  that  we  find  the  Bishop  seated  on 
the  chair  of  the  Praetor  —  the  forms  of  the  cathedral 
already  wrapt  up  in  the  halls  of  ^milius  and  of  Trajan. 
It  is  in  accordance  not  only  with  the  more  general  influ- 
ence to  which  the  Christian  society  was  exposed,  from  the 
rhetorical  subtleties,  the  magical  superstitions,  the  idol- 
atrous festivals,  and  the  dissolute  habits  of  the  heathen 
world  at  large,  but  also  with  the  more  especial  influence 
which  the  purely  political  spirit  of  the  Roman  State  ex- 
ercised over  some  of  their  most  peculiar  institutions  — 
with  the  fact  that  the  very  names  by  which  the  func- 
tions of  their  officers  are  described  sprung  not  from  the  re- 
ligious, but  from  the  civil  vocabulary  of  the  times,  and 
are  expressions  not  of  spiritual  so  much  as  of  political 
power.  "Ordo"  (the  origin  of  our  present  "orders") 
was  the  well-known  name  of  the  municipal  senates  of  the 
empire;  "  ordinatio  "  (the  original  of  our  "  ordination  ") 
was  never  used  by  the  Romans  except  for  civil  appoint- 
ments ;  the  "  tribunes  of  the  people  "  are  the  likeness 
which  the  historian  of  the  "  Decline  and  Fall "  recog- 
nizes in  the  early  Christian  Bishojjs ;  the  preponderance 
of  the  Gentile  spirit  of  government  and  the  revival  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Roman  Senate  in  the  counsels  of  Cyprian 
was  the  thought  which  forced  itself  on  the  mind  of  the 
last  English  historian  of  Rome.  The  Church  of  Rome 
developed  thus  early  the  idea  of  authority  and  subordi- 
nation. Evils  and  abuses  innumerable  no  doubt  flowed 
from  the  excess  of  this  influence  of  the  Christian  Church, 
but  iti  itself  it  was  a  true  instinct,  which  no  arguments 
about  the  contrast  of  civil  and  spiritual  power  were  able 
completely  to  extinguish.-^     The  free  spirit  of  the  Roman 

1  See  Renan's  Hibbert  Lectures  on  the  Influence  of  Rome  on  ChHstianity 
and  the  Catholic  Church. 


204  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  IX. 

citizen  felt  that  it  could  breathe  nowhere'  so  freely  as  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Christian  society.  The  Christian  min- 
ister felt  that  no  existing  office  or  title  to  power  was  so 
solemn  as  that  of  the  Roman  magistrate ;  and  it  was  a 
striking  act  of  homage  to  the  greatness  of  the  Empire 
that  by  an  instinct,  however  unconscious,  the  hall  of  Ro- 
man justice  should  not  have  been  deemed  too  secular  for 
a  place  of  Christian  worship. 

Yet  once  more,  we  have  seen  how  the  very  name  of 
Basilica  leads  our  thoughts  back  to  the  period  of  Roman 
The  use  of  gi'satncss  and  Grecian  refinement,  how  naturally 
*''■  the  several  parts  of  the  heathen  and  the  secular 

edifice  adapted  themselves  to  their  higher  use,  how,  on 
the  one  hand  (if  we  take  the  Christian  service,  not  in 
its  worse,  but  in  its  better  aspect),  the  den  of  thieves 
was  changed  into  the  house  of  prayer — the  words  of 
heavenly  love  spoken  from  the  inexorable  seat  of  Roman 
judgment — the  halls  of  wrangling  converted  into  the 
abodes  of  worship  ;  —  how,  on  the  other  hand,  the  idea 
of  the  public  and  social  life  which  the  Basilica  has 
brought  with  it  from  Greece,  the  idea  of  an  irresistible 
law  and  universal  dominion  which  had  been  impressed 
upon  it  by  the  genius  of  Rome,  first  found  their  complete 
development  under  the  shadow  of  that  faith  which  was 
to  preserve  them  both  to  the  new  world  of  Europe.  It 
is  possible  to  trace,  in  this  transfiguration  of  the  ancient 
images  of  Gentile  power  and  civilization,  a  sign,  however 
faint,  of  the  true  spirit  of  that  faith  which  here  found  an 
outward  expression.  Had  unrestrained  scope  been  given 
to  the  tendency  which  strove  to  assimilate  all  Christian 
worship  to  the  religious  ceremonial  of  Judaism  or  Pagan- 
ism, it  might  have  perpetuated  itself  by  adopting  in  all 
cases,  as  it  certainly  did  in  some,  the  type,  if  not  of  the 
Roman,  at  least  of  the  Jewish  temple.  Had  the  stern 
indifference  to  all  forms  of  art  prevailed  everywhere,  and 


Chap.  IX.]  THE   USE   OF   ART.  205 

at  all  times,  (.lining  the  first  three  centuries,  as  it  did 
during  the  ages  of  persecution  and  in  the  deserts  of  the 
Thebaid,  it  would  probably  have  swept  away  outward 
localities  and  forms  of  worship  altogether. 

A  higher  spirit,  undoubtedl}^,  than  either  of  these  ten- 
dencies represent,  there  has  always  been  in  the  Christian 
Church,  whether  latent  or  expressed ;  —  a  spirit  which 
would  make  religion  to  consist  not  in  the  identification  of 
things  with  itself  nor  yet  in  a  complete  repudiation  of 
them  —  but  in  its  comprehension  and  appropriation  of 
them  to  its  own  uses  ;  —  which  would  look  upon  the  world 
neither  as  too  profane,  nor  too  insignificant,  for  the  re- 
gard of  Christians,  but  ratlier  as  the  very  sphere  in  wliich 
Christianity  is  to  live  and  to  triumph.  To  what  extent 
such  a  spirit  may  have  coexisted  with  all  the  counteract- 
ing elements  which  it  must  have  met  in  the  age  of  Con- 
stantine,  we  do  not  pretend  to  say :  but  if  the  view  above 
given  be  correct,  it  is  precisely  such  a  spirit  as  this  which 
is  represented  to  us  in  outward  form  by  the  origin  of  the 
Christian  Basilica.  It  is  precisely  such  a  monument  as 
best  befitted  the  first  public  recognition  of  a  religion 
whose  especial  claim  it  was  that  it  embraced  not  one  na- 
tion only,  nor  one  element  of  human  nature  only,  but  all 
the  nations  and  all  the  various  elements  of  the  whole 
world.  The  Gothic  Cathedral  may  have  had  its  origin 
quite  independently  of  its  precursors  in  Italy,  and  may 
have  been  a  truer  exponent  of  the  whole  range  of  Chris- 
tian feeling  ;  but  neither  it,  nor  any  other  form  of  Archi- 
tecture could  have  won  its  way  into  the  Christian  world, 
unless  the  rise  of  the  Basilica  had  first  vindicated  the  ap- 
plication of  Gentile  art,  whether  Roman  or  Teutonic,  to 
sacred  purposes.  The  selection  of  the  Halls  of  Justice 
may  have  been  occasioned  by  merely  temporary  and  ac- 
cidental causes  ;  but  the  mere  fact  of  the  selection  of  such 
sites  or  such  models,  unhallowed  by  ancient  tradition,  or 


206  THE   BASILICA.  [Chap.  IX. 

primeval  awe,  was  in  itself  a  new  phenomenon  —  was  in 
itself  the  sign  that  a  Religion  was  come  into  the  world, 
confident  of  its  own  intrinsic  power  of  consecrating  what- 
ever it  touched,  independently  of  any  outward  or  exter- 
nal relation  whatever. 

A  similar  tendency  may  be  perceived  in  the  subsequent 
adaptation  of  the  successive  styles  of  mediasval  and  clas- 
sical structures  of  Christian  and  Protestant  worship.  The 
gathering  of  large  masses  in  the  nave  or  the  transepts  of 
cathedrals,  of  which  only  a  small  portion  had  been,  prop- 
erly speaking,  devoted  to  religious  uses,  is  an  instance  of 
these  edifices  lending  themselves  to  purposes  for  which 
they  were  not  originally  intended.  But  of  all  such  ex- 
amples, the  Basilica  is  the  earliest  and  the  most  striking. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   CLERGY. 

It  is  proposed  to  state  briefly  the  early  constitution  of 
the  Christian  clergy.^ 

I.  It  is  certain  that  the  officers  of  the  Apostolical,  or 
of  any  subsequent,  Church  were  not  part  of  the  original 
institution  of  the  Founder  of  our  religion  ;  that  of  Bishop, 
Presbyter,  and  Deacon,  of  Metropolitan,  Patriarch,  and 
Pope,  there  is  not  the  shadow  of  a  trace  in  the  four  Gos- 
pels. It  is  certain  that  they  arose  gradually  out  of  the 
preexisting  institutions  either  of  the  Jewish  Synagogue, 
or  of  the  Roman  Empire,  or  of  the  Greek  municipalities, 
or  under  the  pressure  of  local  emergencies.  It  is  certain 
that  throughout  the  first  century,  and  for  the  first  years 
of  the  second,  that  is,  through  the  later  chapters  of  the 
Acts,  the  Apostolical  Epistles,  and  the  writings  of  Clem- 
ent and  Hermas,  Bishop  and  Presbyter  were  convertible 
terms,  and  that  the  body  of  men  so  called  were  the  rulers 
—  so  far  as  any  permanent  rulers  existed  —  of  the  early 
Church.  It  is  certain  that  as  the  necessities  of  the  time 
demanded,  first  at  Jerusalem,  then  in  Asia  Minor,  the 
elevation  of  one  Presbyter  above  the  rest  by  the  almost 

1  The  yjroofs  of  what  is  here  stated  have  been  given  before  in  the  essay  "On 
the  Apostolical  Office,"  in  Sermons  and  Essays  on  the  Apostolical  Age,  and  are 
therefore  not  repeated  here.  And  it  is  the  less  necessary,  because  they  have 
been  in  later  times  elaborated  at  great  length  and  with  the  most  convincing  ar- 
guments by  Bishop  Lightfoot  in  his  "Essay  on  the  Christian  Ministry"  ap- 
pended to  his  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  and  by  the  Rov. 
Edwin  Hatch  in  his  articles  on  "Bishop"  and  "Presbyter"  in  the  Dictionary 
of  Christian  Antiquities,  as  well  as  in  his  more  recent  Bampton  Lectures.  These 
may  be  consulted  for  any  further  detail. 


208  THE   CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

universal  law,  wliich  even  in  republics  engenders  a  mon- 
archical element,  the  word  "  Bishop  "  gradually  changed 
its  meaning,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  'second  century 
became  restricted  to  the  chief  Presbyter  of  the  locality. 
It  is  certain  that  in  no  instance  were  the  Apostles  called 
"Bishops"  in  any  other  sense  than  they  were  equally 
called  "  Presbyters  "  and  "  Deacons."  It  is  certain  that 
in  no  instance  before  the  beginning  of  the  third  century 
the  title  or  function  of  the  Pagan  or  Jewish  Priesthood 
is  applied  to  the  Christian  pastors.  From  these  facts  re- 
sult general  conclusions  of  general  interest. 

1.  It  is  important  to  observe  how  with  the  recognition 
of  this  gradual  growth  and  change  of  the  early  names 

and   offices  of   the  Christian  ministry,  the  long 

Identity  of  .  t-»         i  •        • 

Bishop  and     and  tierce  controversy  between  Presbytenanism 

Presbyter.  -r-\     •  ^  •    i  •  i    p  i  • 

and  Episcopacy,  Avhich  contmued  from  the  six- 
teenth to  the  first  part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has  en- 
tirely lost  its  significance.  It  is  as  sure  that  nothing  like 
modern  Episcopacy  existed  before  the  close  of  the  first 
century  as  it  is  that  nothing  like  modern  Presbyterian- 
ism  existed  after  the  beginning  of  the  second.  That 
which  was  once  the  Gordian  knot  of  theologians  has  at 
least  in  this  instance  been  untied,  not  by  the  sword  of 
persecution,  but  by  the  patient  unravelment  of  scholar- 
ship. No  existing  church  can  find  any  pattern  or  plat- 
form of  its  government  in  those  early  times.  Churches, 
like  States,  have  not  to  go  back  to  a  state  of  barbarism 
to  justify  their  constitution.  It  has  been  the  misfortune 
of  Churches,  that,  unlike  States,  there  has  been  on  all 
sides  equally  a  disposition  either  to  assume  the  existence 
in  early  days  of  all  the  later  principles  of  civilization,  or 
else  to  imagine  a  primitive  state  of  things  which  never 
existed  at  all. 

2.  These  formations  or  transformations  of  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  were  drawn  from  the  contemporary  usages 


Chap.  X.]  THE   ORDERS.  209 

of  society.     The  Deacons  were  the  most  original  of  the 
institutions,  being  invented,  as  it  were,  for  the  „  .  .    ,^, 

'  o  '  '  Origin  01  the 

special  emergency  in  the  Church  of  Jerusalem,  orders. 
But  the  Presbyters  were  the  "  sheikhs,"  the  elders  — 
those  who  by  seniority  had  reached  the  first  rank  —  in 
the  Jewish  Synagogue.  The  Bishops  were  tlie  same, 
viewed  under  another  aspect  —  the  "  inspectors,"  the 
"  auditors,"  of  the  Grecian  churches.^  These  words 
bear  testimony  to  the  fact  (as  significant  of  the  truly 
spiritual  character  of  Christianity  as  it  is  alien  to  its 
magical  character)  that  the  various  orders  of  tlie  Chris- 
tian ministry  point  to  their  essentially  lay  origin  and 
their  aSinity  with  the  great  secular  world,  of  which  the 
elements  had  been  pronounced  from  the  beginning  of 
Christianity  to  be  neither  "  common  nor  unclean." 

3.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  relics  of  the  prim- 
itive condition  of  the  Church,  which  have  survived 
through  all  the  changes  of  time. 

The  Bishop,  in  the  second  century,  when  first  he  be- 
came elevated  above  his  fellow  Presbyters,  appears  for  a 
time  to   have   concentrated  in  himself  all  the 

»  .  1-11  iii'i  •!       Vestiges  of 

functions  which   they  had    hitherto   exercised,   the  primi- 

,  tive  usages. 

If  they  had  hitherto  been  coequal  Bishops  he 
gradually  became  almost  sole  Presbyter.  He  alone  could 
baptize,  consecrate,  confirm,  ordain,  marry,  preach,  ab- 
solve. But  this  exclusive  monopoly  has  never  been  fully 
conceded.  In  almost  every  one  of  these  cases  the  Pres- 
byters have  either  not  altogether  lost  or  have  recovered 
some  of  their  ancient  privileges.  In  all  Churches  the  ex- 
clusive absorption  of  the  privileges  of  the  Presbyters  into 
the  hands  of  the  Bishop  has  been  either  resisted  or  mod- 
ified by  occasional  retention  of  the  old  usages.  Every- 
where Presbyters  have  successfully  reasserted  the  power 
of    consecrating,    baptizing,    marrying,    and    absolving. 

1  See  t)ie  autliorities  quoted  in  Renan,  St.  Paul,  239. 
14 


210  THE  CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

Everywhere,  except  in  the  English  Church,  they  have, 
in  special  cases,  claimed  the  right  of  confirming.  Every- 
where they  have,  with  the  Bishop,  retained  a  share  in  the 
right  of  oi-daining  Presbyters.  At  Alexandria  they  long 
retained  the  right  of  ordaining  Bishops. ^ 

We  commonly  speak  of  three  Orders,  and  the  present 
elevation  of  Bishops  has  fully  justified  that  phrase  ;  but 
according  to  the  strict  rules  of  the  Church,  derived  from 
those  early  times,  there  are  but  two  —  Presbyters  and 
Deacons.2  The  Abbots  of  the  Middle  Ages  represent  in 
the  Episcopal  Churches  the  Presbyterian  element  —  in- 
dependent of  the  jurisdiction  of  Bishops,  and  equal  to 
them  in  all  that  concerned  outward  dignity. 

4.  Of  all  the  offices  in  the  early  Church,  that  of  Dea- 
con was  subjected  to  the  most  extreme  changes.  Their 
TheDea-  Origin  (if,  as  is  probable,  we  must  identify 
*^°'^"  them  more  or  less  with  the  Seven  in  the  Acts) 

is  the  only  part  of  the  institution  of  the  Christian  min- 
istry of  which  we  have  a  full  description. ^  It  was  the 
oldest  ecclesiastical  function  ;  the  most  ancient  of  the 
Holy  Orders.  It  was  grounded  on  the  elevation  of  the 
care  of  the  poor  to  the  rank  of  a  religious  service.  It 
was  the  proclamation  of  the  truth  that  social  questions 
are  to  take  the  first  place  amongst  religious  instruction. 
It  was  the  recognition  of  political  economy  as  part  of 
religious  knowledge.  The  deacons  became  the  first 
preachers  of  Christianity.  They  were  the  first  Evangel- 
ists, because  they  were  the  first  to  find  their  way  to  the 
homes  of  the  poor.     They  were  the  constructors  of  the 

1  See  Lectures  on  the  Eastern  CInirch  (Lecture  VIL);  Bishop  Lightfoot, 
"The  Christian  Ministry,"  in  Commentary  on  the  Philippians,  pp.  228-236. 

2  It  would  seem  that  in  those  centuries  the  chief  pastor  of  every  city  was  a 
Bishop,  and  those  who  looked  after  the  villages  in  the  surrounding  district  were 
called  countrv  bishops  (xupen-KricoTra)!');  whetlier  Presbyters  or  Bishops  in  the 
later  sense  is  a  question  which  from  the  identity  of  the  two  Orders  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  determine  with  certainty. 

3  Kenan,  La  Apotres,  pp.  120-122. 


Chap.  X.]  THE   DEACONS.  211 

most  solid  and  durable  of  the  institutions  of  Christian- 
ity, namely,  the  institutions  of  charity  and  beneficence. 
Women  as  well  as  men  were  enrolled  in  the  order.  They 
were  district-visitors,  lay-helpers  on  the  largest  scale. 
Nothing  shows  the  divergence  between  it  and  the  mod- 
ern Order  of  Deacon  more  completely  than  the  diver- 
gence of  numbers.  In  the  Greek,  Roman,  and  English 
Churches,  and,  it  may  be  added,  in  the  Presbyterian 
Churches,  there  are  as  many  Deacons  as  Presbyters. 
But  in  the  early  Church  the  Presbyters  were  the  many, 
the  Deacons  the  few,  and  their  fewness  made  their  office 
not  the  smallest  but  the  proudest  office  and  prize  in  the 
Church.i 

The  only  institution  which  retains  at  once  the  name 
and  the  reality  is  the  Diaconate  as  it  exists  in  the  Dutch 
Church.  The  seven  Deacons  of  Rome  exist  as  a  shadow 
in  the  Cardinal  Deacons  of  the  Sacred  College  of  Rome, 
but  only  as  a  shadow.  They  were  the  seven  chaplains 
or  officers  of  the  Church.  Their  head  was  an  acknowl- 
edged potentate  of  the  first  magnitude.  He  was  the  Arch- 
deacon.  Such  was  Lawrence  at  Rome,  such  was  Athana- 
sius  at  Alexandria,  such  was  the  Archdeacon  of  Canter- 
bury in  England.  If  any  one  were  asked  who  was  the  first 
ecclesiastic  of  Western  Christendon,  he  would  naturally 
and  properly  say,  the  Bishop  of  Rome.  But  the  second 
is  not  an  archbishop,  not  a  cardinal,  but  the  Archdeacon 
of  Rome.  Till  the  eleventh  century  this  was  so  abso- 
lutel3^  That  office  was  last  filled  by  Hildebrand,  and 
in  the  deed  of  consecration  of  the  Church  of  Monte  Cas- 
ino, his  name  succeeds  immediately  to  that  of  the  Pope, 
and  is  succeeded  by  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Ostia.  Since 
his  time  the  office  has  been  rarely  filled,  and  has  been 
virtually  abolished.^ 

1  Jerome,  Ejnst.  ad  Evagrium ;  Thomasin,  Vetus  et  Nova  Discijilina,  i.  ii.  29. 

2  Thomasin,  Vetus  et  Nova  DiscipUna,  i.  lib.  ii.  c.  20,  s.  3.  Tlie  Archdeacon 
of  Constantinople  ceased  about  the  same  time.  The  tirst  instance  of  a  Presbyter 
Archdeacon  is  a.  d.  874. 


212  THE   CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

5.  Before  the  conversion  of  the  Empire,  Bishops  and 
Presbyters  alike  were  chosen  by  the  whole  mass  of  the 
Appoint-  people  ^  in  the  parish  or  the  diocese  (the  words 
^^^^'  at  that  time  were  almost  interchangeable). 
The  election  of  Damasus  at  Rome,  of  Gregory  at  Con- 
stantinople, of  Ambrose  at  Milan,  and  of  Chrysostom 
at  Constantinople  are  decisive  proofs  of  this  practice. 
There  were,  no  doubt,  attempts  in  particular  instances 
to  modify  these  popular  elections,  sometimes  by  the  bish- 
ops, as  in  Eg3'pt,  against  the  Melitians  in  the  Council  of 
Nicaea,  sometimes  as  at  Rome,  of  the  leading  clergy  of 
the  place,  which  gave  birth  to  the  College  of  Cardinals, 
but  ultimately  in  every  case  by  the  influence  of  the  sov- 
ereign, first  of  the  Emperor,  and  then  of  the  several 
princes  of  Europe. 

6.  The  form  of  consecration  or  ordination  varied.  In 
the  Alexandrian  and  Abyssinian  Churches  it  was  and 
Forms  of       still  is,  by  breathing  ;    in  the  Eastern  Church 

cousecra-  ni  a-p   •  i  i  ^        •  i 

tion.  generally  by  lifting  up  the   hands  in   the  an- 

cient oriental  attitude  of  benediction ;  in  the  Armenian 
Church,  as  also  at  times  in  the  Alexandrian  Church,  by 
the  dead  hand  of  the  predecessor ;  in  the  early  Celtic 
Church,  by  the  transmission  of  relics*  or  pastoral  staff ; 
in  the  Latin  Church  by  the  form  of  touching  the  head, 
which  has  been  adopted  from  it  by  all  Protestant 
Churches.  No  one  mode  was  universal ;  no  written  for- 
mula of  ordination  exists.  That  by  which  the  Presby- 
ters of  the  Western  Church  are  ordained  is  not  later 
than  the  twelfth  century,  and  even  that  varies  widely  in 
the  place  assigned  to  it  in  the  Roman  and  in  the  English 
Cliurches.2 

7.  Of  the  ordinary  ministrations  of  the  early  clergy  it 
is  difficult  to  form  any  conception.     One  rule,  however, 

1  By  show  of  hands  (x«ipoTovt'o).     Kenan's  St.  Paul,  p.  238. 

2  See  Chapter  VII. 


Chap.  X.]  THEIR  GROWTH.  213 

is  known  to  have  regulated  their  condition,  which  every 
Church  in  Christendom  has  since  rejected  except  the 
Abyssinian.  It  was  positively  forbidden  in  the  fourth 
century,  evidently  in  conformity  with  prevailing  usage, 
for  any  Bishop,  Presbyter,  or  Deacon,  to  leave  the  par- 
ish or  diocese  in  which  he  had  been  originally  placed. 

The  clergy  were,  as  a  general  rule,  married  ;  and 
though  in  the  Eastern  Church  this  long  ceased  as  re- 
gards Bisbops,  and  in  the  Latin  Church  altogether,  in 
the  Church  of  the  three  first  centuries  it  was  universal. 

The  regulations  in  the  Pastoral  Epistles,  which  are 
under  any  hypothesis  the  earliest  documents  or  laws  de- 
scribing the  duties  of  the  clergy,  dwell  very  slightly  ^  on 
the  office  of  teaching,  do  not  even  mention  the  sacra- 
ments, and  are  for  the  most  part  confined  to  matters  of 
conduct  and  sobriety.  The  teaching  functions  were 
added  to  those  of  government  as  the  Christian  Church 
grew  in  intelligence,  and  have  varied  with  the  circum- 
stances of  the  age.  The  present  Eastern  Church,  though 
once  abounding  in  them,  is  now  almost  entirely  without 
them ;  in  the  Western  Church  they  have  never  been 
altogether  absent ;  in  the  Protestant  churches  they  have 
almost  absorbed  all  others.  But  in  all,  unlike  the  Jew- 
ish and  Pagan  Priesthoods,  the  intellectual  and  pastoral 
attributes  have  been  in  theory  predominant,  and  have 
been  the  main-stay  of  the  office. 

II.  From  these  changes  two  conclusions  follow. 

1.  In  the  first  beginning  of  Christianity  there  was  no 
such  institution  as  the  clergy,  and  it  is  conceivable  that 
there  may  be  a  time  when  they  shall  cease  to 

•^  ...  The    growth 

be.    But  thousrh  the  office  of  the  Christian  min-  of  the 

.     .  .         clergy. 

istry  was  not  one  of  the  original  and  essential 

1  The  only  expression  which  bears  upon  teaching  in  the  catalogue  of  a 
Bishop's  (or  Presbyter's)  duties  in  1  Tim.  iii.  2-7,  is  "apt  to  teach  "  (oiSouctiko?) 
in  ver.  7,  and  in  Tit.  i.  ii.  the  expressions  used  in  ver.  9. 


214  THE   CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

elements  of  the  Christian  religion,  yet  it  grew  naturally 
out  of  the  want  which  was  created.  There  was  a  kind 
of  natural  necessity  for  the  growth  of  the  clergy  in  order 
to  meet  the  increasing  needs  of  the  Christian  community. 
Just  as  kings  and  judges  and  soldiers  spring  up  to  suit 
the  wants  of  civil  society,  so  the  clergy  sprang  up  to 
meet  the  wants  of  religious  society.  Even  in  those  re- 
ligious communities  which  have  endeavored  to  dispense 
with  such  an  order  it  has  reasserted  itself  in  other  forms. 
The  Mussulman  religion,  properly  speaking,  admits  of  no 
clergy.  But  the  legal  profession  has  very  nearly  taken 
their  place.  The  Mufti  and  the  Imam  are  religious  quite 
as  much  as  they  are  civil  authorities.  The  English  So- 
ciety of  Friends,  although  they  acknowledge  no  separate 
Order,  yet  have  always  had  well-known  accredited  teach- 
ers, who  are  to  them  as  the  Popes  and  Pastors  of  their 
community. 

The  intellectual  element  in  the  Christian  society  will 
always  require  some  one  to  express  it,  and  this,  in  some 
form  or  another,  will  probably  be  the  clergy,  or,  as  Cole- 
ridge expressed  it,  the  "  Clerisy."  The  mechanical  part 
of  the  office,  which  was  characteristic  of  the  Priest,  did 
not  belong  to  the  office  in  early  Christian  times.  The 
"  elders  "  were  derived  from  the  Jewish  synagogue,  but 
it  was  the  excellence  of  Christianity  to  inspire  them  with 
a  new  life,  to  make  them  fill  a  new  place,  to  make  them 
occupy  all  the  vacant  opportunities  of  good  that  this 
world  offers. 

2.  It  has  been  said  that  the  Christian  Church  or  Soci- 
ety existed  before  the  institution  of  the  Christian  clergy. 
Origin  of  ^^  ^^^^  manner  the  Christian  clergy  existed  be- 
Episcopacy.  f^^.^  ^j^g  institution  of  Christian  Bishops.  In 
the  first  age  there  was  no  such  marked  distinction  as 
now  we  find  between  the  different  orders  of  the  clergy. 
It  was  only  by  slow  degrees  that  the  name  of  Bishop  be- 


Chap.  X.]  ORIGIN   OF   EPISCOPACY.  215 

came  appropriated  to  one  chief  pastor  raised  high  in  rank 
and  station  above  the  mass  of  the  clergy.  But  here, 
again,  it  was  the  demand  which  created  the  supply.  The 
demand  for  distinction  and  inequality  of  offices  arose  from 
the  fact  that  there  is  in  human  nature  a  distinction  and 
inequality  of  gifts.  If  all  clergymen  were  equal  in  char- 
acter and  power,  there  would  be  no  place  for  inequality  of 
rank  or  station  amongst  them.  It  is  because,  like  other 
men,  they  are  unequally  gifted,  because  there  are  from 
time  to  time  amongst  them,  as  amongst  others,  men  who 
have  been  endowed  with  superior  natures,  that  Episcopacy 
exists  and  will  always  exist,  in  substance,  if  not  in  form, 
but  often  in  form  also,  because  the  substance  of  the  char- 
acter claims  an  outward  form  in  which  to  embody  itself. 
Doubtless  there  have  been  times  when  the  clergy  and 
the  Church  were  able  to  effect  their  great  objects  in  the 
world  without  the  aid  of  higher  officers  ;  just  as  there 
have  been  battles  which  have  been  won  by  the  rank  and 
file  of  soldiers  without  the  aid,  or  even  in  spite,  of  gener- 
als. But  still  the  more  usual  experience  of  mankind  has 
proved  that  in  all  conditions  of  life  there  are  men  who 
rise  above  their  fellows,  and  who  therefore  need  corre- 
ponding  offices  in  which  these  more  commanding  gifts 
may  find  a  place ;  and  who  by  the  development  of  those 
gifts  through  the  higher  offices  are  themselves  a  standing 
proof  that  the  offices  are  necessary.  Even  in  the  Apos- 
tolic age,  before  the  existence  of  what  we  now  call  Bish- 
ops, and  when  the  word  Bishop  was  synonymous  with 
Presbyter  or  Elder,  there  were  forward  and  gifted  disci- 
ples, like  Timotheus  and  Titus,  who  took  the  lead.  Even 
in  Presbyterian  Churches  we  see  again  and  again  men 
who  by  their  superior  character  and  attainments  are 
Bishops  in  all  but  in  name,  and  who  only  need  such 
offices  to  call  out  their  full  energies.  There  exist  Epis- 
copal Churches,  such  as  those  in  Greece  and  Italy,  where 


216  THE   CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

the  Bishops  have  been  so  numerous  that,  as  in  early 
times,  they  have  been  but  Presbyters  with  another  name. 
But  in  England,  and  in  former  days  in  Germany,  they 
have  always  been  comparatively  few  in  number,  and  it  is 
this  rarity,  this  exaltation,  which  causes  that  agreement 
of  the  office  with  the  natural  fitness  of  things. 

III.  In  what  sense  can  the  institution  of  the  Clergy  or 
of  Bishops  be  said  to  have  a  divine  origin  ?  Not  in  the 
sense  of  its  having  been  directly  and  visibly 
established  by  the  Founder  of  Christianity. 
Amongst  the  gifts  which  our  Lord  gave  to  mankind  dur- 
His  life  on  earth,  the  Christian  ministry,  as  we  now  pos- 
sess it,  is  not  one.  He  gave  us  during  the  years  of  His 
earthly  manifestation,  that  which  was  far  greater  — 
which  was  in  fact  Christianity  —  He  gave  us  Himself — 
Himself  in  His  life,  in  His  death,  in  His  mind,  in  His 
character,  in  His  immortal  life  in  which  He  lives  forever 
—  Himself,  with  the  immediate  impression  of  Himself 
on  the  characters  and  memories  of  those  His  friends  and 
disciples  who  stood  immediately  around  Him,  and  who 
carried  on  the  imjDulse  which  they  derived  from  personal 
contact  with  Him.  But  no  permanent  order  of  minis- 
ters appears  in  that  spiritual  kingdom  of  which  He  spoke 
on  the  hills  of  Galilee  or  on  the  slopes  of  Olivet.  The 
Twelve  Apostles  whom  He  chose  had  no  successors  like 
themselves.  No  second  Peter,  no  second  John,  no  second 
Paul  stepped  into  the  places  of  those  who  had  seen  the 
Lord  Jesus  ;  and  if  their  likenesses  have  been  in  any 
measure  seen  again  in  later  times,  it  has  been  at  long 
intervals,  few  and  far  between,  when  great  lights  have 
been  raised  up  to  rekindle  amongst  men  the  expiring 
flame  of  truth  and  goodness  by  extraordinary  gifts  of 
genius  or  of  grace.  The  Seventy  Disciples  that  went 
forth  at  the  Lord's  command  into  the  cities  of  Palestine 
were  soon  gathered  to  their  graves,  and  no  order  of  the 


Chap.  X.]  THEIR   ORIGIN.  217 

same  kind  or  of  the  same  number  came  in  their  stead. 
They  went  out  once,  and  returned  back  to  their  Master, 
to  go  out  no  more.  The  Church,  the  Christian  Society, 
existed  in  those  faithful  followers,  even  from  the  begin- 
ning, and  will  doubtless  last  to  the  very  end.  Wherever, 
in  any  time  or  country,  two  or  three  are  gathered  to- 
gether by  a  common  love  and  faith,  there  will  be  a  Chris- 
tian Church.  But  even  for  years  after  the  Lord's  depart- 
ure, such  a  society  existed  without  a  separate  order  of 
clergy.  The  whole  Christian  brothei'hood  was  full  of 
life,  and  there  was  as  yet  no  marked  distinction  between 
its  different  portions.  All  were  alike  holy  —  all  were 
alike  consecrated.  Therefore  it  is  that  the  institution  of 
the  Christian  ministry  has  never  been  placed  in  any  an- 
cient Creed  amongst  the  fundamental  facts  or  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel ;  therefore  it  is  that  (in  the  language  of 
the  English  Church)  ordination  is  not  a  sacrament,  be- 
cause it  has  no  visible  sign  or  ceremony  ordained  by 
Christ  Himself. 

Yet  there  is  another  sense  in  which  the  Christian  min- 
istry is  a  gift  of  our  Divine  Master.  It  is  brought  out  in 
the  well-known  passage  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians : 
"  When  He  ascended  up  on  high,  He  led  captivity  cap- 
tive, and  gave  gifts  unto  men And  He  gave  some 

to  be  apostles,  and  some  to  be  prophets,  and  some  to  be 
evangelists,  and  some  to  be  shepherds  and  teachers."  ^ 
What  is  it  that  is  meant  by  saying  that  it  was  only  after 
His  withdrawal  from  us,  that  He  gave  these  gifts  to  men, 
and  that  amongst  these  gifts  were  the  various  offices,  of 
which  two  at  least  (the  pastoral  and  the  intellectual) 
contain  the  germs  of  all  the  future  clergy  of  Christen- 
dom ?  It  is  this  —  that  not  in  His  earthly  life,  not  in 
His  direct  communion  with  men,  not  as  part  of  the  orig- 
inal manifestation  of  Christianity,  but  (so  to  speak)  as  a 

1  Eph.  iv.  8-11. 


218  THE  CLERGY.  [Chap.  X. 

Divine  afterthought,  as  the  result  of  the  complex  influ- 
ences which  were  showered  down  upon  the -earth  after 
its  Founder  had  left  it,  as  a  part  of  the  vast  machinery 
of  Christian  civilization,  were  the  various  professions  of 
Christendom  formed,  and  amongst  these  the  great  voca- 
tion of  the  Christian  ministry. 

The  various  grades  of  the  Christian  clergy  have  sprung 
up  in  Christian  society  in  the  same  ways,  and  by  the 
same  divine,  because  the  same  natural,  necessity,  as  the 
various  grades  of  government,  law,  and  science  —  a  neces- 
sity only  more  urgent,  more  universal,  and  therefore  more 
divine,  in  so  far  as  the  religious  and  intellectual  wants 
of  mankind  are  of  a  more  general,  of  a  more  simple, 
and  therefore  of  a  more  divine  kind  than  their  social  and 
physical  wants.  All  of  them  vary,  in  each  age  or  coun- 
try, according  to  the  varieties  of  age  and  country  —  ac- 
cording to  the  civil  constitution,  according  to  the  geo- 
graphical area,  according  to  the  climate  and  custom  of 
east  and  west,  north  and  south.  We  find  popular  elec- 
tion, clerical  election,  imperial  election,  ministerial  elec- 
tion, ordination  by  breathing,  ordination  by  sacred  relics, 
ordination  by  elevation  of  hands,  ordination  by  imposi- 
tion of  hands,  vestments  and  forms  derived  from  Roman 
civil  life,  or  from  a  peculiar  profession  from  this  or  that 
school,  of  this  or  that  fashion  —  spheres  •  more  or  less 
limited,  a  humble  country  village,  an  academic  cloister, 
a  vast  town  population,  or  a  province  as  large  as  a  king- 
dom. The  enumeration  of  these  varieties  is  not  a  con- 
demnation, but  a  justification,  of  their  existence.  The 
Christian  clergy  has  grown  with  the  growth  and  varied 
with  the  variations  of  Christian  society,  and  the  more 
complex,  the  more  removed  from  the  rudeness  and  sim- 
plicity of  the  early  ages,  the  more  likely  they  are  to  be 
in  accordance  with  truth  and  reason,  which  is  the  mind 
of  Christ. 


Chap.  X.]  THEIR   ORIGIN.  219 

This,  therefore,  is  the  divine  and  the  human  side  of 
the  Christian  ministry.  Divine,  because  it  belongs  to 
the  inevitable  growth  of  Christian  hopes  and  sympathies, 
of  increasing  truth,  of  enlarging  charity.  Human,  be- 
cause it  arose  out  of,  and  is  subject  to,  the  vicissitudes  of 
human  passions,  human  ignorance,  human  infirmities, 
earthly  opportunities.  In  so  far  as  it  has  a  permanent 
and  divine  character,  it  has  a  pledge  of  immortal  exist- 
ence, so  long  as  Christian  society  exists  with  its  peculiar 
wants  and  aspirations  ;  in  so  far  as  it  has  a  human  char- 
acter, it  seeks  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  wants  of  each 
successive  age,  and  needing  the  support,  and  the  sym- 
pathy, and  the  favor,  of  all  the  other  elements  of  social 
intercourse  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  It  has  been  at 
times  so  degraded  that  it  has  become  the  enemy  of  all 
progress.  It  has  been  at  times  in  the  forefront  of  civiliza- 
tion. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  POPE. 

Three  hundred  years  ago  there  were  three  official 
personages  in  Europe  of  supreme  historical  interest,  of 
whom  one  is  gone,  and  two  survive,  though  in  a  reduced 
and  enfeebled  form. 

The  three  were  the  Emperor  of  the  Holy  Roman  Em- 
pire, the  Pope  of  Rome,  and  the  Sultan  of  Constan- 
tinople. They  were  alike  in  this,  that  they  combined  a 
direct  descent  of  association  from  the  old  classical  world 
with  an  important  position  in  the  modern  world,  —  a 
high  secular  with  a  high  ecclesiastical  position,  — a  strong 
political  influence  with  a  personal  authority  of  an  ex- 
ceptional kind. 

The  Emperor  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  was  the 
greatest  sovereign  in  Europe.  He  was,  in  fact,  properly 
•  Emperor  of  spcakiug,  the  ouly  sovereign  of  Europe.  Other 
RonSn^Em-  l^ii^gs  and  priuccs  were,  in  strict  parlance,  his 
P'""®"  deputies.    He  was  the  fountain  of  honor  whence 

they  derived  their  titles.  He  took  precedence  of  them 
all.  He  was  the  representative  of  the  old  Roman  Em- 
pire. In  him,  the  highest  intelligences  of  the  time  saw 
the  representative  of  order,  the  counterpoise  of  individual 
tyranny,  the  majesty  at  once  of  Religion  and  of  Law. 
No  other  single  potentate  so  completely  suggested  the 
idea  of  Christendom  as  a  united  body.  No  throne  in 
Europe  presented  in  its  individual  rulers  personages  of 
grander  character,  or  at  least  of  grander  power,  than  the 
Empire  could  boast  in  Charlemagne,  Frederick  Barbarossa, 


Chap.  XL]  THE  POPE.  221 

Frederick  II.,  and  Charles  V.  Long  before  this  splendid 
dignitary  passed  away,  his  real  power  was  gone,  and  Vol- 
taire had  truly  declared  of  him  that  there  was  in  him 
"  nothing  Holy,  nothing  Roman,  and  nothing  Imperial." 
But  it  was  not  till  our  own  time,  in  1816,  when  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire  was  changed  into  the  Empire  of  Austria, 
that  he  finally  disappeared  from  the  stage  of  human 
affairs.  The  Emperor  of  Germany,  as  regards  Germany, 
took  the  vacant  place  in  1871,  but  not  as  regards  Eu- 
rope. 

The  two  others  remain.  They  in  many  respects  re- 
semble each  other  and  their  defunct  brother,  perhaps  in 
the  fragility  of  their  thrones,  certainly  in  the 

,    .  £■      1      •      1  •  -1  ,•   •      The  Sultan. 

concentrated  interest  or  their  historical,  politi- 
cal, and  religious  position.  The  Sultan  perhaps  com- 
prises in  his  own  person  most  of  the  original  character- 
istics of  the  institution  which  he  represents.  He  is  at 
once  the  representative  of  the  Byzantine  Csesars  and 
the  representative  of  the  last  of  the  Caliphs,  that  is,  of 
the  Prophet  himself.  He  is  the  chief  of  a  mighty  em- 
pire, and  at  the  same  time  the  head  of  a  powerful  and 
wide-spread  religion.  Of  all  the  three,  he  is  the  one 
whose  person  is  invested  with  the  most  inviolable  sanc- 
tity. His  temporal  dominion  in  Europe  has  almost 
vanished.  But  he  still  retains  "  the  Palaces  and  the 
Gardens "  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  his  ecclesiastical  au- 
thority over  his  co-rehgionists  remains  undisturbed  if  not 
undisputed. 

It  is  of  the  third  of  this  august  brotherhood  that  we 
propose  to  speak.  The  Papacy  is  now  passing  through 
a  phase  in  some  degree  resembling  that  of  the 

The  Pope. 

Holy  Roman  Emperor  in  1816,  and  that  of  the 
Sultan  of  Constantinople  at  the  present  moment.     But 
its  peculiarities  are  too  deeply  rooted  in  the  past  to  be 
entirely  shaken  by  any  transitory  change. 


222  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

It  is  not  as  an  object  of  attack  or  defence  that  this 
great  dignitary  is  here  discussed,  but  as  a  mine  of  deep 
and  curious  interest  —  the  most  ancient  of  all  the  rulers 
of  Europe.  He  presents  many  aspects,  each  one  of 
■which  might  be  taken  by  itself  and  viewed  without 
prejudice  to  the  others.  Some  of  these  are  purely  his- 
torical. Others  are  political  and  secular.  Others  involve 
questions  reaching  into  difficult  problems  of  religion  and 
theology.     They  may  be  briefly  enumerated  thus  :  — 

The  Pope  may  be  considered  —  I.  As  the  representa- 
tive of  the  customs  of  Christian  antiquity ;  II.  As  the 
representative  of  the  ancient  Roman  Empire  ;  III.  Asan 
Italian  Bishop  and  Italian  Prince  ;  IV.  As  "  the  Pope," 
or  chief  oracle  of  Christendom  ;  V.  As  the  head  of  the 
ecclesiastical  profession  ;  VI.  As  an  element  in  the  future 
arrangements  of  Christendom. 

I.  The  Pope  is  a  representative  of  Christian  antiquity. 
In  this  respect  he  is  a  perfect  museum  of  ecclesiastical 
The  Pope  as  curiosities  —  a  mass,  if  we  "wish  so  to  regard 
Bentativeof    him,  of  latent  primitive  Protestautism.    In  him, 

Christian  ,  ,,.,,..  ,  .  , 

ontiqtuity.  from  the  high  dignity  and  tenaciously  conser- 
vative tendencies  of  the  oflBce,  customs  endured  which 
evei-ywhere  else  perished. 

The  public  entrance  of  that  great  personage  into  one 
of  the  Roman  churches,  at  the  time  when  such  proces- 
sions were  allowed  by  ecclesiastical  authority,  can  never 
be  forgotten.  Borne  aloft  above  the  surface  of  the  crowd 
—  seen  from  head  to  foot  —  the  peacock  tans  waving  be- 
hind him  —  the  movement  of  the  hand  alone  indicating 
that  it  is  a  living  person,  and  not  a  waxen  figure  —  he 
completely  represented  the  identification  of  the  person 
with  the  institution  ;  he  gave  the  impression  that  there 
alone  was  an  office  which  carried  the  mind  back  to  the 
times,  as  Lord  Macaulay  says,  when  tigers  and  camelo- 
pards  bounded  in  the  Flavian  amphitheatre. 


Chap.  XL]         AS   THE   REPRESENTATIVE   OF    ANTIQUITY.        223 

1.  Take  his  ordinary  dress.  He  always  appears  in  a 
white  gown.  He  is,  according  to  a  well-known  Roman 
proverb,  "  the  White  Pope,"  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  the  more  formidable  "  Black  Pope,"  the 
General  of  the  order  of  the  Jesuits,  who  wears  a  black 
robe.  This  white  dress  is  the  white  frock  of  the  early 
Christians,^  such  as  we  see  in  the  oldest  mosaics,  before 
the  difference  between  lay  and  clerical  costume  had 
sprung  up,  not  the  "  surplice  "  of  the  Church  of  England, 
nor  the  "  white  linen  robe  "  of  the  Jewish  priest,  but 
the  common  classical  dress  of  all  ranks  in  Roman  society. 
To  this  common  white  garb  the  early  Christians  adhered 
with  more  than  usual  tenacity,  partly  to  indicate  their 
cheerful,  festive  character,  as  distinct  from  mourners  who 
went  in  black,  partly  to  mark  their  separation  from  the 
peculiar  black  dress  of  the  philosophical  sects  with  which 
they  were  often  confounded.  The  Pope  thus  carries  on 
the  recollection  of  an  age  when  there  was  no  visible  dis- 
tinction between  the  clergy  and  laity ;  he  shows,  at  any 
rate,  in  his  own  person,  the  often  repeated  but  often  for- 
gotten fact,  that  all  ecclesiastical  costumes  have  originated 
in  the  common  dress  of  the  time,  and  been  merely  per- 
petuated in  the  clergy,  or  in  this  case  in  the  head  of  the 
clergy,  from  their  longer  adherence  to  ancient  habits. 

2.  Take  his  postures.  At  the  reception  of  the  Holy 
Communion,  whilst  others  kneel,  his  proper  attitude  is 
that  of  sitting;  and,  although  it  has  been  altered 

.  .  His  postures. 

or  late  years,  he  still  so  stands  as  to  give  the 
appearance  of  sitting.^  It  is  possible  that  this  may  have 
been  continued  out  of  deference  to  his  superior  dignity ; 
but  it  is  generally  believed,  and  it  is  very  probable,  that 
in  that  attitude  he  preserves  the  tradition  of  the  primi- 
tive posture  of  the  early  Christians,  who  partook  of  the 

1  Gerbet,  Rome  Chretienne,  ii.  44. 

2  See  note  at  the  eud  of  the  chapter. 


224  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

Holy  Supper  in  the  usual  attitude  of  guests  at  a  meal  — 
recumbent  or  sitting,  as  the  case  might  be.  This  has  now 
been  exchanged  throughout  a  large  part  of  Christendom 
for  a  more  devotional  attitude,  —  in  the  East  for  stand- 
ing, in  the  West  for  kneeling.  The  Pope  still  retains  in 
part  or  in  whole  the  posture  of  the  first  Apostles ;  and  in 
this  he  is  followed  by  the  Presbyterians  of  Scotland  and 
the  Nonconformists  of  England,  who  endeavor  by  this 
act  to  return  to  that  which,  in  the  Pope  himself,  has 
never  been  entirely  abandoned.  It  brings  before  us  the 
ancient  days  when  the  Sacrament  was  still  a  supper,  when 
the  communicants  were  still  guests,  when  the  altar  was 
still  a  table. 

3.  This  leads  us  to  another  custom  retained  in  the 
Pope  from  the  same  early  time.  The  Pope,  when  he 
celebrates  mass  in  his  own  cathedral  of  St.  John 
Lateran,  celebrates  it,  not  on  a  structure  of  mar- 
ble or  stone,  such  as  elsewhere  constitutes  the  altars  of 
Roman  Catholic  churches,  but  on  a  wooden  plank,  said 
to  be  part  of  the  table  on  which  St.  Peter  in  the  house 
of  Pudens  consecrated  the  first  communion  in  Rome. 
This  primitive  wooden  table  —  the  mark  of  the  original 
social  character  of  the  Lord's  Supper  —  has  been  pre- 
served throughout  the  East ;  and  in  most  Protestant 
Churches,  including  the  Church  of  England,  was  restored 
at  the  Reformation.  But  it  is  interesting  to  find  this  in- 
disputable proof  of  its  antiquity  and  catholicity  preserved 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  see  of  Rome.  Some  persons  have 
been  taught  to  regard  stone  altars  as  identical  with 
Popery  ;  some  to  regard  them  as  necessary  for  Christian 
worship.  The  Pope,  b}^  this  usage  of  the  old  wooden 
table,  equally  contradicts  both.  The  real  change  from 
wood  to  stone  was  occasioned  in  the  first  instance,  not  by 
the  substitution  of  the  idea  of  an  altar  for  a  table,  but  by 
the  substitution  of  a  tomb,  containing  the  relics  of  a 
martyr,  for  both  altar  and  table. 


Chap.  XL]         AS   THE   EEPEESENTATIVE   OF   ANTIQUITY.       225 

4.  Again,  when  the  Pope  celebrates  mass,  he  stands, 
not  with  his  back  to  the  people,  nor  at  the  north  end,  nor 
at  the  northwest  side,  of  the  table,  but  behind 

it  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  and  facing  the  con- 
gregation. This  is  the  exact  reverse  of  the  position  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  generally,  and  of  those  who 
would  wish  especially  to  imitate  them.  It  much  more 
nearly  resembles  the  position  of  Presbyterian  and  Non- 
conformist ministers  at  the  time  of  the  Holy  Communion, 
when  they  stand  at  one  side  of  the  table,  facing  the  con- 
gregation, who  are  on  the  other  side.  It  was  the  almost 
necessary  consequence  of  the  arrangement  of  the  original 
basilica,  where  the  altar  stood  not  at  the  east  end,  but  in 
the  middle  of  the  building,  the  central  point  between 
clergy  and  laity.  It  represents,  of  Qourse,  what  must 
Lave  been  the  position  in  the  original  institution  as  seen 
in  pictures  of  the  Last  Supper.  It  is  also  the  position 
which  prevailed  in  the  Church  of  England  for  the  first 
hundred  years  after  the  Reformation,  and  till  some  years 
after  the  Restoration,  and  is  still  directly  enjoined  in  the 
rubrics  of  the  English  Prayer  Book.  The  position  of  a 
Presbyterian  minister  at  the  time  of  the  celebration  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  either  as  he  stands  in  the  pulpit,  or 
when  descending  he  takes  his  place  behind  the  table,  with 
his  elders  around  him,  precisely  resembles  the  attitude  of 
an  early  Christian  bishop  surrounded  by  his  presbyters.^ 
Here  again  Protestantism,  or,  if  we  prefer  to  call  it  so, 
primitive  Christianity,  appears  in  the  Pope,  when  it  has 
perished  on  all  sides  of  him. 

5.  Another   peculiarity  of   the  Pope's    celebration  of 
mass  gives  us  a  glimpse  into  a  phase  of  the  early  Church 
Avhich  is  highly  instructive.     The  Gospel  and  m^  j^^^. 
Epistle  are  read  both  in  Greek  and  Latin.    Tlfis  ^"''^"' 

is  a  vestige  doubtless  of  the  early  condition  of  the  first 

1  See  Chapter  IX. 
15 


226  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

Roman  Church,  which,  as  Dean  Mihnan  has  well  pointed 
out,  was  not  an  Italian  but  a  Greek  community  —  the 
community  to  which,  as  being  Greek  and  Oriental,  St. 
Paul  wrote,  not  in  Latin  but  in  Greek  ;  the  community 
of  which  the  first  teachers  —  Clement  and  Hermas  — 
wrote,  not  in  Latin  but  in  Greek.  It  preserves  the  cu- 
rious and  instructive  fact  that  the  chief  of  Latin  Christen- 
dom was  originally  not  an  "  Italian  priest,"  but  an  alien  ; 
a  Greek  in  language,  an  Oriental  in  race.  It  gives  us  an 
insight  into  the  foreign  elements  out  of  which  the  early 
Western  Churches  everywhere  were  formed.  It  is  in 
fact  a  remnant  of  a  state  of  things  not  later  than  the 
third  century.  Before  that  time  the  sacred  language  of 
the  Roman  Church  was  Greek.  After  that  time,  Greek 
gave  way  to  Latin,  and  by  the  fifth  century  the  Roman 
clergy  were  not  even  able  to  understand  the  tongue  which 
to  their  forefathers  in  the  faith  had  been  sacred  and  litur- 
gical, whilst  the  language  of  the  "  Vulgate "  and  the 
J'  Canon  of  the  Mass  "  were  still  profane.^ 

6.  Again,  in  the  Pope's  private  chapel,  and  on  all  oc- 
casions when  the  Pope  himself  officiates,  there  is  a  total 
absence  of  instrumental  music.     This,  too,  is  a 

His  serrice.  .  .  ci         i        ^        ■         •  t    •  ci 

continuation  or  the  barbaric  simplicity  or  the 
early  Christian  service.  The  Roman  Catholic  ritual,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  Protestant  Churches  of  Holland,  Ger- 
many, France,  Switzerland,  and  England,  have  joined  in 
defying  this  venerable  precedent.  In  two  branches  only 
of  the  Church  outside  the  Pope's  chapel  it  still  lingers  ; 
namely,  in  the  worship  of  the  Eastern  churches  and  in 
some  of  the  Presbyterian  churches  of  Scotland.  At  Mos- 
cow and  at  Glasgow  still  there  are  places  where  the  sound 
of  an  organ  would  be  regarded  as  a  blast  from  the  Seven 
Hills.  But,  in  fact,  the  Pope  himself  is  on  this  point  a 
Greek  and  a  Presbj'^terian,  and  in  this  refusal  of  the  ac- 

1  Rossi,  Roma  Sotter.  ii.  237. 


Chap.  XL]        AS   THE   REPRESENTATIVE    OF   ANTIQUITY.        227 

corapaniments  of  the  sublime  arts  of  modern  music,  is  at 
one  with  those  who  have  thrown  off  his  allegiance  and 
protest  against  the  practices  of  those  who  have  accepted 
it. 

7.  Again,  alone  of  all  great  ecclesiastics  of  his  Church, 
he  has  no  crosier,  except  a  small  temporary  silver  one  at 
ordinations.  The  simple  reason  of  this  is,  that  Theabsence 
being  borne  aloft  on  the  shoulders  of  his  guards,  »*  ^^'^o^'^'^- 
and  thus  not  being  obliged  to  walk  like  other  ecclesias- 
tics, he  has  no  need  of  a  walking-stick.  This  at  once  re- 
veals the  origin  of  the  formidable  crosier,  —  not  the  sym- 
bol of  the  priesthood  against  the  state,  —  not  even  the 
crook  of  the  pastor  over  his  flock,  but  simply  the  walk- 
ing-stick, the  staff  of  the  old  man,  of  the  presbyter,  such 
as  appears  in  the  ancient  drama  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
and  in  the  famous  riddle  of  ffidipus.  It  puts  in  a  vivid 
form  the  saying  of  Pius  VII.  to  a  scrupulous  Protestant, 
"  Surely  the  blessing  of  an  old  man  will  do  you  no  harm." 
The  crosier  was  the  symbol  of  old  age,  and  of  nothing 
besides. 1 

These  instances  might  be  multiplied  :  but  they  are 
sufficient  to  show  the  interest  of  the  subject.  They  show 
how  we  find  agreements  and  diffei-ences  where  we  least 
expect  it  —  how  innocent  and  insignificant  are  some  of 
the  ceremonies  to  which  we  attach  most  importance  — 
how  totally  different  was  the  primitive  state,  even  of  the 
Roman  Church,  to  that  which  now  prevails  both  in 
Roman  Catholic    and    Protestant  countries.     They    are 

1  This  absence  of  the  crosier  has  naturally  given  birth  to  a  brood  of  false 
symbolical  explanations  such  as  have  encompassed  all  these  simple  observances. 
The  legend  is,  that  the  Pope  lost  the  crosier  because  St.  Peter  sent  his  staff  to 
raise  from  the  dead  a  disciple  at  Treves.  This  disciple  afterwards  became 
Bishop  of  Treves ;  and  the  Pope  therefore,  when  he  enters  the  diocese  of 
Treves,  is  believed  on  that  occasion  to  carry  the  crosier.  (St.  Thomas  Aquinas, 
02>p-  vol.  xiii.  42.)  Another  explanation  is,  (hat  the  curve  of  tlie  crook  indi- 
cates a  restraint  of  the  episcopal  power,  and  that,  as  the  Pope  has  no  restraint 
therefore  he  has  no  crook.    (Ibid.) 


228  THE  POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

lessons  of  charity  and  of  wisdom  —  of  caution  and  of  for- 
bearance. In  these  respects  the  Pope  has  acted  merely 
as  the  shoal  which,  like  the  island  in  his  own  Tiber,  has 
arrested  the  straws  of  former  ages,  as  they  floated  down 
the  stream  of  time. 

II.  These  usages  belong  to  him  as  a  Christian  pastor, 
and  are  the  relics  of  Christian  antiquity.  But  there  are 
Successor  of  othcrs  which  reveal  him  to  us  in  another  aspect, 

the  Emper-  ^         i-ii  i»cti  , 

ors.  and  wnicn  have  drifted  down  through  another 

channel.  No  saying  of  ecclesiastical  history  is  more  preg- 
nant than  that  in  which  Hobbes  declares  that  "  the  Pope 
is  the  ghost  of  the  deceased  Roman  Empire,  sitting 
crowned  upon  the  grave  thereof."  This  is  the  true  orig- 
inal basis  of  his  dignity  and  power,  and  it  appears  even 
in  the  minutest  details. 

If  he  were  to  be  regarded  only  as  the  successor  of  St. 
Peter,  his  chief  original  seat  would,  of  course,  be  in  the 
Basilica  of  St.  Peter,  over  the  Apostle's  grave.  But  this 
is  not  the  case.  St.  Peter's  church,  in  regard  to  the 
Pope,  is  merely  a  chapel  of  gigantic  jDroportions  attached 
to  the  later  residence  which  the  Pope  adopted  under  the 
Vatican  Hill.  The  present  magnificent  church  was 
erected  to  be  the  mausoleum  of  Julius  II.,  of  which  one 
fragment  only  —  the  statue  of  Moses  —  remains.  The 
Pope's  proper  see  and  Cathedral  is  the  Basilica  of  St. 
John  "  in  the  Lateran  "  —  that  is,  in  the  Lateran  palace 
which  was  the  real  and  only  bequest  of  Constantine  to 
the  Roman  Bishop.  It  had  been  the  palace  of  the  Lat- 
eran family.  From  them  it  passed  to  the  Imperial  dy- 
nasty. In  it  the  Empress  Fausta,  wife  of  Constantine, 
usually  lived.  In  it,  after  Constantine's  departure  to 
Constantinople,  the  Roman  Bishop  dwelt  as  a  great 
Roman  noble.  In  it  accordingly  is  the  true  Pontifical 
throne,  on  the  platform  of  which  are  written  the  words 
HoBC  est  papalis  sedes  et  pontificalis.     Over  its  front  is 


Chap.  XL]        SUCCESSOR  OF  THE  EMPERORS.        229 

inscribed  the  decree,  Papal  and  Imperial,  declaring  it  to 
be  the  mother  and  mistress  of  all  churches.  In  it  h^ 
takes  possession  of  the  See  of  Rome,  and  of  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Pontifical  States. 

Although  the  story  of  Constantine's  abdication  to  Pope 
Sylvester  is  one  of  the  fables  of  the  Papacy,  yet  it  has 
in  it  this  truth  —  that  by  the  retirement  of  the  Emperors 
to  the  East,  they  left  Rome  without  a  head,  and  tht^.t 
vacant  place  was  naturally  and  imperceptibly  filled  by 
the  chief  of  the  rising  community.  To  him  the  splendor 
and  the  attributes,  which  properly  belonged  to  the  Em- 
peror, were  unconsciously  transferred. 

Here,  as  in  the  case  of  ecclesiastical*  usages,  we  trace 
it  in  the  small  details  which  have  lingered  in  him  when 
they  have  perished  elsewhere.  The  chair  of  state,  the 
sella  gestatoria,  in  which  the  Pope  is  borne  aloft,  is  the 
ancient  palanquin  of  the  Roman  nobles,  and,  of  course, 
of  the  Roman  Princes.  The  red  slippers  which  he  wears 
are  the  red  shoes,  campagines,  of  the  Roman  Emperor. 
The  kiss  which  the  faithful  imprint  on  those  shoes  is  the 
descendant  of  the  kiss  first  imprinted  on  the  foot  of  the 
Emperor  Caligula,  who  introduced  it  from  Persia.  The 
fans  which  go  behind  him  are  the  punkahs  of  the  East- 
ern Emperors,  borrowed  from  the  court  of  Persia. 

The  name  by  which  his  highest  ecclesiastical  character 
is  indicated  is  derived,  not  from  the  Jewish  High  Priest, 
but  from  the  Roman  Emperor.  The  Latinized  version 
of  the  Jewish  High  Priest  was  "  Summus  Sacerdos." 
But  the  Pope  is  "  Pontifex  Maximus,"  and  the  "  Ponti- 
fex  Maximus  "  was  a  well-known  and  recognized  per- 
sonage in  the  eyes  of  the  Roman  population,  long  before 
they  had  ever  heard  of  the  race  of  Aaron  or  of  Caiaphas.^ 

1  It  is  perhaps  doubtfui  how  far  the  word  was  confined  to  the  Bishops  of 
Rome.  But  the  evidence  is  in  favor  of  its  having  been  appropriated  to  them  in 
the  first  instance. 


230  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

He  was  the  high  Pagan  dignitary  who  lived  in  a  pubhc 
I'esidence  at  the  northeast  corner  of  the  Palatine,  the 
chief  of  the  college  of  "  Pontiffs  "  or  "  Bridge-makers." 
It  was  his  duty  to  conduct  all  public  sacrifices,  to  scourge 
to  death  any  one  who  insulted  the  Vestal  Virgins,  to  pre- 
side at  the  assemblies  and  games,  to  be  present  at  the 
religious  ceremony  of  any  solemn  marriage,  and  to  ar- 
range the  calendar.  His  office  was  combined  with  many 
great  secular  posts,  and  thus  was  at  last  held  by  the  most 
illustrious  of  the  sons  of  Rome.  It  was  by  virtue  of  his 
pontificate  that  Julius  Coesar  in  his  pontifical  residence 
enabled  Clodius  to  penetrate  into  the  convent  of  the  Ves- 
tals close  by.  It  is  to  the  pontificate,  not  to  the  sov- 
ereignty of  Julius  Caesar,  that  we  owe  the  Julian  cal- 
endar.i  From  him  it  descended  to  the  Emperors,  his 
successors,  and  from  them  to  the  Popes.  The  two  are 
brought  together  in  the  most  startling  form  on  the  ped- 
estal of  the  obelisk  on  the  Monte  Citorio.  On  one  side 
is  the  original  dedication  of  it  by  Augustus  Ciesar, 
"  Pontifex  Maximus,"  to  the  Sun  ;  on  the  other,  by  Pius 
VI.,  "  Pontifex  Maximus,"  to  Christ.  When  Bishop 
Dupanloup,  in  a  pamphlet  on  "  L'Atheisme  et  le  Pdril 
Social,"  described  the  desertion  of  the  Holy  Father  by 
the  late  Emperor  of  France,  it  was  more  appropriate 
than  he  thought  when  he  said,  "  The  Grand  Pontiff 
covers  his  face  with  his  mantle,  and  sajs  ^  ^t  tu  fili.^  ^^ 
It  was  a  Grand  Pontiff  who  so  covered  his  face,  and  who 
so  exclaimed :  but  that  Pontiff  was  Julius  Caisar,  to 
whose  office  the  Pope  has  directly  succeeded. 

This  is  more  than  a  mere  resemblance  of  words.     It 
brings  before  us  the  fact  that  the  groundwork  of  the 

i  For  its  Pagan  origin,  see  Rossi,  ii.  306.  But  is  it  (as  he  says)  only  from  the 
Renaissance  ?  Tertullian  applied  it  ironically  in  the  third  century,  and  it  would 
appear  that  it  was  used  as  a  date  from  the  fourth  century,  instead  of  the  Con- 
sulship.    (See  Mabillon,  and  Theiner,  Codex  Diplomaticus.) 


Chap.  XL]      SUCCESSOR  OF  THE  EMPERORS.  231 

Pope's  power  is  secular — secular,  no  doubt,  in  its  grand 
sense,  resting  on  the  prestige  of  ages,  but  still  a  power  of 
tliis  world,  and  supported  always  by  weapons  of  this 
world. 

He  held,  and  holds,  his  rank  amongst  the  bishops  of 
Christendom,  as  the  BishojD  of  the  Imperial  City,  as  the 
magistrate  of  that  Imperial  City  when  the  Emperors  left 
it.  So,  and  for  the  same  reason,  Constantinople  was  the 
second  see ;  so,  and  for  the  same  reason,  Csesarea,  as  the 
seat  of  the  Roman  government,  not  Jerusalem,  was  the 
seat  of  the  Metropolitan  of  Palestine. 

The  secular  origin  of  the  primacy  of  Rome  belongs,  in 
fact,  to  the  secular  origin  of  much  beside  in  the  early 
customs  of  the  Church,  illustrating  and  illustrated  by 
them.  The  first  church  was  a  "  basilica,"  not  a  temple, 
but  a  Roman  court  of  justice,  accommodated  to  the  pur- 
poses of  Christian  worship. ^  The  word  "bishop,"  episco- 
piis,  was  taken,  not  from  any  usage  of  the  Temple  or  of 
the  Synagogue,  but  from  the  officers  created  in  the  differ- 
ent subject-towns  of  Athens;  "borrowed,"  as  Hooker 
says,  "from  the  Grecians."  The  secular  origin  of  the 
"holy  orders"  and  "ordination"^  have  been  already 
indicated.  The  word  and  idea  of  a  "  diocese  "  was  taken 
from  the  existing  divisions  of  the  empire.  The  orientation 
of  churches  is  from  the  rites  of  Etruscan  angary.  The 
whole  ecclesiastical  ceremonialism  is,  according  to  some 
etymologists,  the  bequest  of  Ccere,  the  sacred  city  of  the 
Etruscans.  The  first  figures  of  winged  angels  are  Etrus- 
can. The  oflficiating  bishop  at  ordinations  in  St.  John 
Lateran  washes  his  hands  with  medulla  panis  according 
to  the  usage  of  ancient  Roman  banquets.  Of  all  these 
Christian  usages  of  secular  and  Pagan  origin,  the  Pope 

1  See  Chapter  IX. 

2  As  late  as  the  sixth  century  Gregory  the  Great  uses  "  ordo"  for  the  civil 
magistrate,  and  "clerus"  for  the  clergy.  (Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities, 
ii.  146-149.) 


232  THE  POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

is  the  most  remarkable  example  —  a  constant  witness  to 
the  earthly  origin  of  his  own  greatness,  but  also,  which 
is  of  more  general  importance,  to  the  indistinguishable 
union  of  things  ecclesiastical  and  things  civil,  and  here, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  more  purely  ecclesiastical  customs, 
the  investigation  of  his  position  shows  on  the  one  hand 
the  historical  interest,  on  the  other  the  religious  insignifi- 
cance, of  much  which  now  excites  such  vehement  enthu- 
siasm, both  of  love  and  of  hatred. 

III.  Following  up  this  aspect  of  the  Pope's  position, 
we  arrive  at  his  character  as  an  Italian  Bishop  and  an 
As  Italian  Italian  Prince.  Both  go  together.  These  belong 
prince.  ^^  ^|-|g  g^ate  of  thiugs  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  out  of  which  his  power  was  formed.  His 
more  general  and  universal  attributes  are  derived  from 
other  considerations  which  must  be  treated  apart.  But 
his  Italian  nationality  and  his  Italian  principality  are  the 
natural  result  of  a  condition  of  society  which  has  long 
since  perished  everywhere  else.  The  Pope's  "temporal 
power"  belongs  to  that  feudal  and  princely  character 
which  was  shared  by  so  many  great  prelates  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  Almost  all  the  German  Archbishops  possessed 
this  special  kind  of  sovereignty,  and  in  our  own  country 
the  Bishops  of  Durham.  The  Archbishops  of  Cologne 
were  Princes  and  Electors  more  than  they  were  Arch- 
bishops. In  the  portraits  of  the  last  of  the  dynasty  in  the 
palace  at  Briihl,  near  Bonn,  for  one  which  represents  him 
as  an  ecclesiastic,  there  are  ten  which  represent  him  as  a 
prince  or  as  a  soldier.  Of  all  those  potentates,  the  Pope 
is  almost  the  only  one  who  remains.  His  principality  is 
now  regarded  as  an  anomaly  by  some  or  as  a  miracle  by 
others.  But  when  it  first  existed,  it  was  one  of  a  large 
group  of  similar  principalities.  When,  therefore,  the 
Pope  stood  defended  by  his  Chassepot  rifles,  or,  in  his 
reduced  state,  still  surrounded  by  his  Swiss  guards,  he 


Chap.  XI.]  AS  ITALIAN   PRINCE.  233 

must  be  regarded  as  the  last  of  the  brotherhood  of  the 
fighting,  turbulent,  courtly  prelates  of  the  Rhine,  of  the 
Prince  Bishop  of  Durham,  or  the  Ducal  Bishop  of  Osna- 
burgh.  His  dynasty  through  its  long  course  has  partaken 
of  the  usual  variations  of  character  which  appear  in  all 
the  other  Italian  principalities.  Its  accessions  of  property 
have  come  in  like  manner  ;  sometimes  by  the  sword,  as 
of  Julius  II.;  sometimes  by  the  donations  of  the  great 
Countess  Matilda  ;  sometimes  by  the  donations  of  Joanna, 
the  questionable  Queen  of  Naples.  Like  the  other  me- 
diaeval prelates,  the  Popes  had  their  hounds,  and  hunted 
even  down  till  the  time  of  Pius  VI.  Mariana,  on  the 
road  to  Ostia,  was  a  famous  hunting-seat  of  Leo  X. 

If  the  Pope  were  essentially  what  he  is  sometimes 
believed  to  be,  the  universal  Bishop  of  the  universal 
Church,  we  should  expect  to  find  the  accompaniments 
of  his  office  corresponding  to  this.  But,  in  fact,  it  is  far 
otherwise.  In  most  of  the  conditions  of  his  office,  the 
Italian  Bishop  and  the  Italian  Prince  are  the  first  objects 
of  consideration.  That  the  first  prelate  of  the  West 
should  have  been,  as  we  have  seen,  the  Bishop  of  the 
old  Imperial  city,  was  natural  enough.  But  it  is  some- 
what startling  to  find  that  the  second  prelate  of  the  West 
is  not  one  of  the  great  hierarchy  of  France,  or  Germany, 
or  Spain,  or  England,  but  the  Bishop  of  the  deserted 
Ostia  —  because  Ostia  is  the  second  see  in  the  Roman 
States.  It  is  he —  with  the  Bishops  of  Portus  and  Sabina 
—  who  crowns  and  anoints  the  Pope.  It  is  he  who  is 
the  Dean  of  the  Sacred  College. 

And  this  runs  throughout.  The  electors  to  the  office  of 
the  Pope,  whether  in  early  days  or  now,  were  not,  and 
are  not,  the  universal  Church,  but  Romans  or  Italians.^ 
In  early  days  it  was  in  the  hands  of  the  populace  of  the 

1  See  the  account  in  Mr.  Cartwright's   interesting  volume  on  Papal  Con- 
claves, p.  36. 


234  THE   POPE.  ^  [Chap.  XI. 

city  of  Rome  From  the  fourth  to  the  eleventh  century 
it  was  accompanied  by  tlui  usual  arts  of  bribery,  fraud, 
and  occasionally  bloodshed.  Afterwards  it  was  shared 
with  the  civil  authorities  of  the  Roman  municipality  ; 
and  so  deeply  was  this,  till  lately,  rooted  in  the  institu- 
tion, that,  on  the  death  of  a  Pope,  the  Senator  resumed 
his  functions  as  the  supreme  governor  of  the  city.^ 

Since  the  twelfth  centurj'^  the  election  has  been  vested 
in  the  College  of  Cardinals.  But  the  College  of  Cardi- 
nals, though  restrained  by  the  veto  of  the  three  Catholic 
Powers,  is  still  predominantly  Italian  ;  and  the  result  of 
the  election  has,  since  the  fourth  century,  been  almost 
entirely  confined  to  Italian  Popes.  The  one  great  ex- 
ception is  an  exception  which  proves  the  rule.  During 
the  seventy  years  when  the  Popes  were  at  Avignon,  they 
were  there  as  completely  French  as  before  and  since  they 
have  been  Italians;  and  for  the  same  reason — because 
they  were  French  princes  living  in  a  French  city,  as  now 
and  before  they  were  Italian  princes  living  in  an  Italian 
city. 

The  feudal  sovereignty  over  Naples  was  maintained 
by  the  giving  of  a  white  horse  on  St.  Peter's  day  by  the 
king  of  Naples —  down  till  the  time  of  Charles  II.  ;  the 
protest  against  the  annexation  of  Avignon  by  France  has 
been  abandoned  since  1815. 

Whatever  ingenuity,  whatever  intrigues,  surround  the 
election  of  a  Pope  are  Italian,  and  of  that  atmosphere 
the  whole  pontifical  dynasty  breathes  from  the  time  it 
became  a  principality  till  (with  the  exception  of  its  exile 
in  Provence)  the  present  time. 

IV.  Then  follow  the  more  general  attributes  of  the 
j^^i^the  Pope.  He  is  "  the  Pope."  This  title  was  not 
Pope.'  originally  his  own.    It  belonged  to  a  time  when 

1  His  long  train  at  mass  is  carried  (amongst  others)  by  the  Senator  of  Rome 
and  the  Prince  "assisting." 


Chap.  XI.]  AS  POPE.  235 

all  teachers  were  so  called.  It  is  like  some  of  tlie  other 
usages  of  which  we  have  spoken,  a  relic  of  the  innocent 
infantine  simplicity  of  the  primitive  Church.  Every 
teacher  was  tlien  "  Papa^  The  word  was  then  what  it 
is  still  in  English,  the  endearing  name  of  "  father."  In 
the  Eastern  Church,  the  custom  continues  still.  Every 
parish  priest,  every  pastor,  is  there  a  "  Pope,"  a  "  Papa," 
and  the  ordinary  mode  of  address  in  Russia  is  "  my  fa- 
ther "  ("  Batinska  ").  Gradually  the  name  became  re- 
stricted, either  in  use  or  significance.  Just  as  the  Bishops 
gradually  rose  out  of  the  Presbyters,  to  form  a  separate 
rank,  so  the  name  of  "  Pope "  was  gradually  applied 
specially  to  bishops.  Cyprian,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  in 
the  third  century,  was  constantly  entitled  "  Most  glorious 
and  blessed  Pope  ;  "  and  the  French  bishops,  in  like 
manner,  were  called  "  Lord  Pope."  There  is  a  gate  in 
the  Cathedral  of  Le  Puy,  in  Auvergne,  still  called  the 
"  Papal  Gate,"  not  because  of  the  entrance  of  any  Pope 
of  Rome  thei'e,  but  because  of  an  old  inscription  which 
records  the  death  of  one  of  the  bishops  of  Le  Puy  under 
the  name  of  "  Pope."  ^ 

And  yet,  further,  if  there  was  any  one  Bishop  in  those 
early  times  who  was  peculiarly  invested  with  this  title 
above  the  rest,  and  known  emphatically  as  "  the  Pope," 
it  was  not  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  but  the  Bishop  of  Alex- 
andria. From  the  third  century  downwards  he  was  "  the 
Pope  "  emphatically  beyond  all  othei's.  Various  reasons 
are  assigned  for  this  honor ;  but,  in  fact,  it  naturally  fell 
to  him  as  the  head  of  the  most  learned  church  in  the 
world,  to  whom  all  the  other  churches  looked  for  advice 
and  instruction. 

In  the  early  centuries,  if  the  Bishop  of  Rome  had  the 
title  at  all,  it  was  merely  like  other  bishops.     It  was  in 

1  The  name  is  first  applied  to  the  Bishop  of  Rome  in  the  letter  of  a  deacon 
to  Pope  Marcellus,  a.  d.  275,  but  it  was  not  till  400  that  thej'  took  it  formally. 


236  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XL 

Latin  properly  only  used  with  the  addition  "  3Iy  Pope,"  ^ 
or  the  like,  and  this  is  the  earliest  known  instance  of  its 
application  to  the  Roman  Pontiff.  It  was  not  till  the 
seventh  century  that  it  became  his  peculiar  designation, 
or  rather,  that  dropping  off  from  all  the  other  western 
bishops,  it  remained  fixed  in  him,  and  was  formally  ap- 
propriated to  its  exclusive  use  in  the  eleventh.  What 
"  Papa  "  was  in  Greek  and  Latin,  "  Abba  "  was  in  Syriac, 
and  thus  accordingly  was  preserved  in  "  Abbot "  "  Abb^," 
as  applied  to  the  heads  of  monastic  communities,  and 
to  the  French  clergy,  almost  as  generally  as  the  word 
"  Papa  "  has  been  in  the  Eastern  Church  for  the  paro- 
chial clergy. 

It  is  curious  that  a  word  which  more  than  any  other 
recalls  the  original  equality  not  only  of  Patriarch  with 
Bishop,  of  Bishop  with  Bishop,  but  of  Bishop  with  Pres- 
byter, should  have  gradually  become  the  designation  of 
the  one  preeminent  distinction  which  is  the  keystone  of 
the  largest  amount  of  inequality  that  prevails  in  the 
Christian  hierarchy. 

It  is  also  to  be  observed  that  a  word  used  to  designate 
the  head  of  the  Latin  Church  should  have  been  derived 
from  the  Greek  and  Eastern  forms  of  Christianity. 

What  is  it  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  this  power 
of  the  Pope  ? 

We  have  already  seen  -that  his  dignity  at  Rome  is  in- 
herited from  the  Roman  Emperors  —  his  territory  from 
his  position  as  an  Italian  Prelate.  But  his  power  as  the 
Pope  is  supposed  to  give  him  the  religious  sovereignty  of 
the  world. 

It  is  often  supposed  that  he  possesses  this  as  successor 
of  St.  Peter  in  the  see  of  Rome.     This,  however,  is  an 

1  "  Papa  suus,"  "Papa  meus  "  "Papa  noster,"  is  the  only  form  in  which  it 
occurs  in  the  third  and  fourth  centuries,  as  a  term  not  of  office,  but  of  affection, 
and  meaning  not  a  hishop  but  a  teacher.  (Mabillon,  Vetera  Analectn,  141.)  So 
the  head  of  tiie  Abyssinian  clergy  is  called  Aboitroa,  i.  e.,  "  our  Father." 


Chap.  XL]  AS  POPE.  237 

assumption  which,  under  any  theory  that  may  be  held 
concerning  his  office,  is  obviously  untenable.  That  St. 
Peter  died  at  Rome  is  probable.  But  it  is  certain  that 
he  was  not  the  founder  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  The 
absence  of  an  allusion  to  such  a  connection  in  St.  Paul's 
Epistles  is  decisive.  It  is  also  certain  that  he  was  not 
Bishop  of  the  Church  of  Rome  or  of  any  Church.  The 
office  of  "  Bishop  "  in  the  sense  of  a  single  officer  presid- 
ing over  the  community  (with  perhaps  the  exception  of 
Jerusalem)  did  not  exist  in  any  Church  till  the  close  of 
the  first  century.  The  word,  as  we  have  seen,  was  orig- 
inally identical  with  the  word  "  Presbyter."  The  al- 
leged succession  of  the  early  Roman  Bishops  is  involved 
in  contradictions  which  can  only  be  explained  on  the 
supposition  that  there  was  then  no  fixed  Episcopate. 
There  is  not  only  no  shadow  of  an  indication  in  the  New 
Testament  that  the  characteristics  of  Peter  were  to  be- 
long to  official  successors,  but  for  the  first  three  centuries 
there  is  no  indication,  or  at  least  no  certain  indication, 
that  such  a  belief  existed  anywhere.  It  is  an  imagina- 
tion with  no  more  foundation  in  fact  than  the  supposi- 
tion that  the  characteristics  of  St.  John  descended  to  the 
Bishops  of  Ephesus. 

But,  further,  it  is  also  a  curious  fact  that  by  the  the- 
ory of  the  Roman  Church  itself,  it  is  not  as  Bishop  of 
Rome  that  the  Pope  is  supposed  to  acquire  the  religious 
sovereignty  of  the  world. 

It  is  important  to  observe  by  what  channel  this  is  con- 
veyed. He  becomes  Bishop  of  Rome,  as  all  others  be- 
come Bishops,  by  regular  consecration.  He  becomes 
Sovereign,  as  all  others  become  Sovereigns,  by  a  regular 
inauguration.  But  he  becomes  Pope,  with  whatever  pe- 
culiar privileges  that  involves,  by  the  election  of  the 
Cardinals  ;  and  for  this  purpose  he  need  not  be  a  clergy- 
man at   all.     Those  who  suppose  that  he  inherits  the 


238  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

great  powers  of  his  office  by  the  inheritance  of  an  Epis- 
copal succession  mistake  the  case.  If  other  Bishops,  as 
some  believe,  derive  their  powers  from  the  Apostles  by- 
virtue  of  an  Apostolical  succession,  not  so  the  Pope.  He 
may,  at  the  time  of  his  election,  be  a  layman,  and,  if 
duly  elected,  he  may,  as  a  layman,  exercise,  not  indeed 
the  functions  of  a  Bishop,  but  the  most  significant  func- 
tions which  belong  to  a  Pope.  The  Episcopal  consecra- 
tion, indeed,  must  succeed  as  rapidly  as  is  convenient. 
But  the  Pope  after  his  mere  election  is  completely  in 
the  possession  of  the  headship  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  even  though  it  should  so  happen  that  the  Epis- 
copal consecration  never  followed  at  all. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  early  Popes  were  never  chosen 
from  the  Bishops,  and  usually  not  from  the  Pi-esbyters, 
but  from  the  Deacons  ;  and  the  first  who  was  chosen 
from  the  Episcopate  was  Formosus,  Bishop  of  Portus,  in 
891.  Hildebrand  ^  was  not  oi'dained  priest  till  after  his 
election.  He  cannot  even  exercise  the  right  of  a  Bishop, 
unless  by  dispensation  from  himself,  until  he  has  taken 
"  possession  "  of  the  sovereignty  in  the  Lateran.  Three 
Popes  have  occupied  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  as  laymen  : 
John  XIX.,  or  XX.,2  in  1024  ;  Adrain  V.,^  in  1276  ; 
Martin  V.  in  1417.*  Of  these,  the  first  reigned  for  some 
years,  and  was  ordained  or  consecrated  with  the  accus- 
tomed solemnities.  The  third  was  enthroned  as  a  lay- 
man, and  passed  through  the  grades  of  deacon,  priest, 
and  bishop  on  successive  days.  The  second  reigned 
only  for  twenty-nine  days,  and  died  without  taking  holy 
orders.  Yet  in  that  time  he  had  acquired  all  the  pleni- 
tude of  his  supreme  authority,  and  had  promulgated  de- 


1  Bona,  i.  189.  '^  Planck,  iii.  370. 

8  Adrian  V.  and  Martin  V.  were  "Cardinal  Deacons."    But  this  is  an  office 
which  is  held  by  laymen. 
*  Fleury,  xxi.  472. 


Chap.  XL]  AS  POPE.  239 

creeg  modifying  the  whole  system  of  Papal  elections 
which  by  his  successors  were  held  to  be  invested  with  all 
the  sacredness  of  Pontifical  utterances. ^  Since  the  time 
of  Urban  VL,  in  1378,  the  rule  has  been  to  restrict  the 
office  of  Pope  to  the  College  of  Cardinals.  But  this  has 
no  higher  sanction  than  custom.  As  late  as  1758,  votes 
were  given  to  one  who  was  not  a  member  of  the  Sacred 
College ;  and  the  election  of  a  layman  even  at  this  day, 
would  be  strictly  canonical.  If  the  lay  element  can  thus 
without  impropriety  intrude  itself  into  the  very  throne 
and  centre  of  ecclesiastical  authority,  and  that  by  the 
election  of  a  body  which  is  itself  not  necessarily  clerical 
(for  a  cardinal  is  not  of  necessity  in  holy  orders),  and 
which  till  at  least  the  last  election  was  subject  to  lay  in- 
fluences of  the  most  powerful  kind  (for  each  of  the  three 
chief  Catholic  sovereigns  had  a  veto  on  the  appointment), 
it  is  clear  that  the  language  commonly  held  within  the 
Roman  Catholic  and  even  Protestant  Churches,  both 
Episcopal  and  Presbyterian,  against  lay  interference  in 
spiritual  matters,  meets  with  a  decisive  check  in  an  un- 
expected quarter.  If  the  Pope  himself  may  be  a  lay- 
man, and,  as  a  layman,  issue  Pontifical  decrees  of  the 
highest  authority,  he  is  a  witness  against  all  who  are  dis- 
posed to  confine  the  so-called  spiritual  powers  of  the 
Church  to  the  clerical  or  Episcopal  order. 

Here,  in  this  crucial  case,  the  necessity  of  choosing 
"  the  right  man  for  the  right  place"  overrides  all  other 
considerations ;  and  if  it  should  so  happen  that  the  Col- 
lege of  Cardinals  became  convinced  that  the  interests  of 
the  world  and  of  the  Church  were  best  served  by  their 
choosing  a  philosopher  or  a  philanthropist,  a  lawyer  or  a 
warrior,  to  the  Pontifical  chair,  there  is  nothing  in  the 

3  See  the  facts  in  Cartwright's  Conclaves,  pp.  1G4, 195.  "Eo  ipso  sit  Pontifex 
Bummus  totius  Ecclesiae,  etsi  forte  id  non  exprimant  electores."  (Bellarmine, 
De  Rom.  Pont.  ii.  22.) 


240  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

constitution  of  tlie  Roman  see  to  forbid  it.  The  electors 
of  the  chief  Pontiff  maybe  laymen,  —  the  sovereign  of 
the  Christian  world  may  be  a  layman.  Whether  we  re- 
gard this  as  a  relic  of  the  ancient  days  of  the  Church,  in 
which  the  laity  w^ere  supreme  over  the  clergy,  or  as  the 
ideal  towards  which  the  Church  may  be  gradually  tend- 
ing, it  is  equally  a  proof  that  there  is  not,  in  the  nat- 
ure of  things  or  in  the  laws  of  Christendom,  any  such 
intrinsic  distinction  between  the  clergy  and  laity  as  to 
give  to  either  an  exclusive  share  in  matters  spiritual  or 
temporal. 

Sucb  being  the  mode  by  which  the  Pope,  as  such,  is 
chosen,  we  next  proceed  to  observe  what  are  the  func- 
tions which,  as  Pope,  he  is  supposed  to  exercise. 

The  word  "  Pope  "  has  in  common  parlance  passed 

with  us  into  a  synonym  for  "  oracle."     When  we  say 

that  such  a  man  is  "  a  Pope  in  his  own  circle," 

As  an  oracle.  .  -^  i       i  •  ir  n 

or  that  "  every  man  is  a  Pope  to  himselt,  we 
mean  that  he  is  a  person  whose  word  must  be  taken  at 
once  on  any  subject  on  which  he  may  choose  to  speak. 
There  was,  as  it  happens,  such  an  oracle  once  believed 
to  reside  in  the  Vatican  Hill  —  where  now  stands  the 
Papal  palace  —  the  oracle  of  the  god  Faunus ;  of  whom 
the  ancient  Latins  came  to  inquire  in  any  difficulty,  and 
received  their  reply  in  dreams  or  by  strange  voices. 
Such  an  oracle  the  Pope  is,  by  a  certain  number  of  his 
followers,  supposed  to  be.  But  this  has  only  within  the 
last  few  years  become  the  doctrine  of  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic Church,  and  many  of  those  who  maintain  it  confine 
the  oracular  power  within  very  narrow  limits,  which  may 
be  always  narrowed  further  still.  His  utterances  are  to 
be  depended  upon  only  when  they  relate  to  matters  of 
faith  and  morals,  and  then  only  when  he  speaks  officially  ; 
and  as  it  will  have  always  to  be  determined  when  it  is 
that  he  speaks  officially,  and  what  matters  are  to  be  con- 


Chap.  XI.]  AS  AN   ORACLE.  241 

sidered  of  faitli,  it  is  evident  that  his  oracular  power  may 
be  limited  or  expanded,  exactly  according  to  the  will  of 
the  recipients.^  In  point  of  fact  the  amount  of  light 
which  the  Papal  See  has  communicated  to  the  world  is 
not  large,  compared  with  what  has  been  derived  from 
other  episcopal  sees,  or  other  royal  thrones.  There  have 
been  occupants  of  the  Sees  of  Constantinople,  Alexandria, 
and  Canterbury,  who  have  produced  more  effect  on  the 
mind  of  Christendom  by  their  utterances  than  any  of 
the  Popes.-  Even  in  the  most  solemn  Papal  declara- 
tions, such  as  annexing  South  America  to  Spain,  or  de- 
termining the  canonization  of  particular  saints,  or  even 
in  issuing  such  a  decree  as  that  concerning  the  Immac- 
ulate Conception,  the  Popes  have  acted  rather  as  the 
mouthpieces  of  othei's,  or  judges  of  a  tribunal,  than  on 
their  own  individual  responsibility.  Canonizations,  at 
least  in  theory,  are  the  result  of  a  regular  trial.  The 
Pope  is  not  supposed  to  venture  to  declare  any  one  a 
canonized  saint  until  he  has  been  entreated,  "  urgently, 
more  urgently,  most  urgently "  Qlnstanter,  instantiuSy 
instantissime'),  by  those  who  have  heard  the  Devil's  as 
well  as  the  saint's  advocate.  The  declaration  of  the  re- 
cent dogmas  of  1851  and  1870  professed  to  be  the  sum- 
ming up  of  a  long  previous  agitation,  and  the  Pope  did 
not  issue  it  till  he  had  asked  the  opinions  of  all  the 
Bishops. 

It  is  the  object  of  these  remarks  to  state  facts,  not  to 
discuss  doctrines.  But  the  fact  is  well  worth  observing, 
—  first,  because  it  shows  how  wide  and  deep  is  the  divi- 

1  A  curious  trace  of  the  individual  character  of  the  Pope  being  maintained 
rather  than  his  official  character,  is  that  lie  signs  his  Bulls  not  by  his  official  but 
his  personal  name,  in  the  barbarous  form.  Placet  Joannes.  —  Wiseman's  Four 
Popes,  •223. 

2  See  Dr.  Newman's  Apologia,  p.  407.  "  Tlie  see  of  Rome  possessed  no  great 
mind  in  the  whole  period  of  persecution.  Afterwards  for  a  long  while  it  had 
not  a  single  doctor  to  show.  The  great  luminary  of  the  western  world  is  St. 
Augustine:  he,  no  infallible  teacher,  has  formed  the  intellect  of  Europe." 

1« 


242  THE  POPE.  [Chap.  XL 

sion  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  on  the  very  question 
which,  more  than  any  other,  distinguishes  it  from  other 
Churches  ;  and,  secondly,  because  it  shows  how  small  an 
amount  of  certainty  or  security  is  added  to  any  one's 
belief  by  resting  it  on  the  oracular  power  of  the  Pope. 
On  most  of  the  great  questions  which  agitate  men's 
minds  at  present,  on  Biblical  criticism,  on  the  authorship 
of  the  Sacred  Books,  on  the  duration  of  future  punish- 
ment, he  has  not  pronounced  any  opinion  at  all ;  and  on 
others,  such  as  the  relations  of  Church  and  State,  of  the 
condition  of  the  working  classes,  of  slavery,  and  the  like, 
the  opinions  he  has  expressed  are  either  so  ambiguous,  or 
so  contradictory,  that  th-^y  are  interpreted  in  exactly  op- 
posite senses  by  the  prelates  in  Italy  and  the  prelates  in 
Ireland.  Even  if  it  were  conceded  that  such  an  oracle 
exists  at  Rome,  there  still  is  no  certainty  either  as  to  its 
jurisdrction  or  its  meaning.  Most  of  those  who  have 
studied  its  utterances,  however  they  may  respect  its  ven- 
erable antiquity  and  honor  its  occasional  wisdom,  will 
carry  away  as  their  chief  impression  its  variations  and  its 
failures. 

But  turning  from  this  much  disputed  attribute  of  the 
Pope,  there  is  no  question  in  his  own  communion,  there 
is  not  much  question  out  of  it,  that  he  is  or  till  very 
lately  was  one  of  the  chief  rulers  of  Christendom.  This, 
rather  than  his  oracular  power,  is  the  characteristic  of 
his  office  brought  out  by  Gregory  VIL  and  Innocent  III. 
And  this,  like  so  much  which  we  have  noticed,  is  a  relic 
of  a  state  of  things  that  has  passed  away.  It  is  part  of 
the  general  framework  of  mediaeval  Christendom.  There 
were  only  two  potentates  of  the  first  magnitude  at  that 
time — the  Pope  and  the  Emperor.  The  kings  were  in 
theory  as  much  subject  to  one  as  to  the  other.  Tiie 
Pope  and  the  Emperor,  though  with  inextricable  con- 
fusion in  their  mutual  relations,  were  cast  as  it  were  in 


Chap.  XI.]  AS   CHIEF   RULER.  243 

the  same  mould.  Dante  could  no  more  have  imagined 
the  Emperor  ceasing  than  the  Pope.  Indeed  he  would 
have  sooner  spared  the  Pope  than  the  Emperor.  He 
sees  no  Pope  (except  St.  Peter)  in  paradise  —  no  Em- 
peror in  hell.  When  the  Emperor  fell  in  the  fall  of  the 
Suabian  dynasty,  the  Pope,  instead  of  gaining  by  the 
destruction  of  his  ancient  enemy,  was  Aveakened  also. 
They  were  twin  brothers.  They  were  Siamese  twins. 
The  death  of  the  one  involves  the  ultimate  death  of  the 
other,  at  least  in  the  aspect  in  which  they  are  correlative. 
No  king,  except  the  German  princes,  is  now  dependent 
on  the  Emperor  of  Germany.  No  king  is  now  dependent 
on  the  Pope  of  Rome.  The  monarchy  of  Christendom 
has  ceased,  for  all  practical  purposes,  as  certainly  as  the 
monarchy  of  ancient  Rome  ceased  after  the  expulsion  of 
the  Tarquins.  But  when  the  kings  were  driven  out  from 
ancient  Rome,  there  was  still  a  king  kept  up  in  name  to 
perform  the  grand  ceremonial  offices  which  no  one  but  a 
person  having  the  name  of  "  king  "  or  "  Rex  "  could  dis- 
charge. The  "  Rex  sacrificulus  "^  took  precedence  of  all 
the  other  functionaries,  religious  or  secular,  in  the  old 
Roman  constitution,  down  to  the  time  of  Theodosius. 
He  lived  on  the  Via  Sacra,  near  the  palace  of  the  Ponti- 
fex  Maximus.  He  was  the  ghost  of  the  deceased  Roman 
kingdom,  just  as  the  Pope  is  the  ghost  of  the  deceased 
Roman  Empire.  Such  as  he  was  in  regard  to  the  ex- 
ternal constitution  of  the  Roman  kingdom,  such  the  Pope 
is  in  regard  to  the  external  constitution  of  Western 
Christendom.  He  takes  precedence  still  of  all  the  mon- 
archs  of  Catholic  Europe.  He  always  dines  alone,  lest 
a  question  of  precedence  should  ever  arise.  The  Papal 
Nuncio  is  still  the  head  of  the  diplomatic  body  in  every 

1  He  lived  on  the  hill  called  "  Velia."  Next  to  him  came  the  Flamen,  who 
lived  in  the  Flaminian  meadows  ;  next  the  Pontifex  Maximus,  who  lived  by  the 
Temple  of  Vesta. 


244  THE  POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

Catholic  country.  Even  the  Protestant  sovereigns,  on  re- 
ceiving a  congratulatory  address  from  that  body  in  France 
or  Spain,  must  receive  it  from  the  lips  of  the  Nuncio. 
The  Pope's  rank  is  thus  an  interesting  and  venerable 
monument  of  an  extinct  world.  His  outward  magnifi- 
cence compared  with  his  inward  weakness  is  one  of  the 
most  frequently  noted  marks  of  his  position  in  the  world. 

It  is  in  this  capacity  that  he  was  seen  by  Bunyan,  in 
the  cave  where  lay  the  giants  Pope  and  Pagan  —  de- 
crepit, aged,  mumbling.  It  has  been  said  that  Peter  has 
no  gray  hairs.  This  is  not  the  verdict  of  history.  His 
hairs  are  very  gray ;  he  is  not  what  he  once  was.  He 
exhibits  the  vicissitudes  of  history  to  an  extent  almost 
beyond  that  of  any  other  sovereign. 

V.  Tins  leads  us  to  yet  one  more  attribute  of  the 
Pope.  Even  those  who  entirely  repudiate  his  authority 
The  Pope  as  must  Still  regard  him  as  the  chief  ecclesiastic  of 
ecclesiastic.  Christendom.  If  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
body  of  clergy  at  all,  the  Bishop  of  Rome  is  certainly  the 
head  of  the  profession.  In  him  we  see  the  pretensions, 
the  merits,  the  demerits  of  the  clerical  office  in  the  most 
complete,  perhaps  in  the  most  exaggerated,  form.  His 
oracular  power  is  only,  to  a  certain  extent,  claimed  by 
the  rest  of  the  clergy.  It  may  not  be,  perhaps,  avowed 
by  any  other  clergyman,  Roman  Catholic  or  Protestant, 
often  as  they  may  think  it  or  imply  it,  that  they  are  in- 
fallible, or  that  they  can  add,  by  their  own  mere  motion, 
new  articles  of  faith.  But  wherever  such  claims  exist, 
the  office  of  the  Pope  is  an  excellent  field  in  which  to 
discuss  the  matter.  The  same  reasons  which  convince  us 
that  the  Pope  is  not  infallible  may  convince  us  of  the 
same  defect  in  regard  to  the  less  dignified  ecclesiastics. 
The  advantages  which  the  clerical  order  have  conferred 
on  Christendom,  and  the  disadvantages,  are  also  well  seen 
in  the  history  of  the  Popes,  on  a  large  scale. 


Chap.  XI.]  AS   THE   CHIEF   ECCLESIASTIC.  245 

Again,  the  Pope  well  exemplifies  the  true  nature  of 
the  much  confused  terms,  "  spiritual  and  temporal  pow- 
er." His  spiritual  power  —  that  is,  his  moral  and  intel- 
lectual power,  over  the  minds  and  consciences  of  men  — 
is  very  small.  Even  amongst  Roman  Catholics,  there 
are  very  few  who  really  believe  anything  the  more  be- 
cause the  Pope  says  so  ;  and  the  Popes  who  have  been 
authors  of  eminence  are  very  few  and  far  between. 
Probably  few  sees,  as  we  have  said,  in  Christendom 
have  really  contributed  so  little  through  their  personal 
occupants  to  the  light  of  the  world.  No  Pope  has  ever 
exercised  the  same  real  amount  of  spiritual  influence  as 
Augustine,  or  Aquinas,  or  Thomas  a  Kempis,  or  Luther, 
or  Erasmus,  or  Shakespeare,  or  Loyola,  or  Hegel,  or 
Ewald. 

But  his  secular  j)ower  over  ecclesiastics  is  very  consid- 
erable. He  in  many  instances  controls  their  temporal  po- 
sitions. His  tribunals,  whatever  may  be  their  uncertainty 
and  caprice,  compared  to  an  English  court  of  justice,  are 
still,  to  the  ecclesiastical  world  of  Roman  Catholic  Chris- 
tendom, what  the  Supreme  Court  of  Appeal  is  to  the 
Church  of  England. 

It  is  against  the  exercise  of  this  power  that  Henry  H. 
in  England,  and  St.  Louis  ^  in  France,  and  Santa  Rosa 
in  Piedmont,  contended.  It  is,  as  a  protection  against 
it,  tliat  the  state  in  France,  Austria,  Spain,  Italy,  Por- 
tugal, and  virtually  in  Prussia,  has  retained  the  nomina- 
tion of  the  bishops  of  those  countries  in  its  own  hands, 
and  fenced  itself  about  with  concordats  and  treaties, 
against  the  intrusion  of  so  formidable  a  rival.  By  this 
protection  the  Abbot  of  Monte  Casino,  under  the  present 
kingdom  of  Italy,  enjoys  a  freedom  which  he  with  diffi- 
culty maintained  against  the  Pope,  and  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris,  almost  until  he  fell  a  victim  to  tlie  fanaticism 
1  See  Lanfrey's  Hisloire  Politique  des  Papes,  p.  278. 


246  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XL 

of  the  Parisian  populace,  was  upheld  by  the  Emperor  of 
the  French. 

VI.  It  has  been  the  purpose  of  these  remarks  to  con- 
fine them  as  closely  as  possible  to  facts  acknowledged  by 
all. 

One  remaining  fact,  however,  also  is  certain,  that  there 
is  no  personage  in  the  world  whose  office  provokes  such 
His  mixed      widely  different  sentiments  as  that  of  the  Pope. 

character.         J^  ^^^    g^-^    ^|^,^^  p-^^^    j^     ^^^  ^^^  g- j^g    ^^  j^j^ 

face  —  one  malignant,  the  other  benevolent.  Once, 
and  once  only,  the  malignant  side  appeared  in  a  photo- 
graph, which  was  immediately  suppressed  by  the  police. 
Whether  tbis  is  true  or  not,  it  is  no  unapt  likeness  of 
the  opposite  physiognomy  which  tlie  Papal  office  pre- 
sents to  the  two  sides  of  the  Christian  world.  To  the 
one  he  appears  as  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  to  the  other  as 
Antichrist  ;  to  the  one  as  the  chief  minister  and  repre- 
sentative of  the  Holy  and  the  Just,  to  the  other  as  his 
chief  enemy.  Nor  is  this  diversity  of  aspect  divided  ex- 
actly according  to  the  division  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
churches.  There  have  been  members  of  the  Roman 
Church,  like  Petrarch,  who  have  seen  in  the  Papal  city  a 
likeness  of  Babylon,  as  clearly  as  Luther  or  Knox.  There 
have  been  Protestants,  like  Arnold  and  Guizot,  who  have 
recognized  in  certain  phases  of  the  Papacy  a  beneficence 
of  action  and  a  loftiness  of  design,  as  clearly  as  Bossuet 
and  De  Maistre.  Nay,  even  to  the  same  mind,  at  the 
same  time,  the  oflSce  has  alternately  presented  both  as- 
pects, as  it  did  to  Dante.  And  again,  the  Pope,  who,  to 
most  Protestants,  appears  as  the  representative  of  all 
that  is  retrograde,  dogmatic,  and  superstitious,  appears 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Eastern  Church  as  the  first  Rational- 
ist, the  first  Reformer,  the  first  founder  of  private  judg- 
ment and  endless  schism. 

This  diversity  of  sentiment  is  certainly  not  the  least 


Chap.  XL]  HIS   MIXED   CHARACTER.  247 

instructive  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Papal  office. 
Many  causes  may  have  contributed  towards  it,  but  the 
main  and  simple  cause  is  this,  —  that  the  Papal  office, 
like  many  human  institutions,  is  a  mixture  of  much  good 
and  much  evil ;  stained  with  many  crimes,  adorned  with 
many  virtues ;  with  many  peculiar  temptations,  with 
many  precious  opportunities  ;  to  be  judged  calmly,  dis- 
passionately, charitably,  thoughtfully,  by  all  who  come 
across  it.  So  judged,  its  past  history  will  become  more 
intelligible  and  more  edifying  ;  so  judging,  we  may,  per- 
haps, arrive  hereafter,  at  some  forecast  of  what  may  be 
its  Future  in  the  present  and  coming  movements  of  the 
world. 

It  once  chanced  that  an  English  traveller,  in  a  long 
evening  spent  on  the  heights  of  Monte  Casino,  was  con- 
versing with  one  of  the  charming  inmates  of  the  ancient 
home  of  St.  Benedict,  who  was  himself,  like  most  of  his 
order  in  Italy,  opposed  to  the  temporal  power  of  the 
Pope.  The  Protestant  Englishman  ventured  to  ask  the 
liberal-minded  Catholic  :  "  How  do  you  forecast  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  accomplishment  of  your  wishes  in  the  face 
of  the  steadfast  opposition  of  the  reigning  pontiff  and  the 
long  traditional  policy  of  the  Roman  Court  ?  "  He  re- 
plied, "  I  console  myself  by  looking  back  at  the  history 
of  the  Papacy.  I  remember  that  St.  Peter  came  to  Rome 
a  humble  fisherman,  without  power,  without  learning, 
with  no  weapon  but  simple  faith  and  his  life  in  his 
hand.  I  remember  next  that  when  the  barbarians  came 
in,  and  the  European  monarchies  were  founded,  there 
came  a  man  as  unlike  to  St.  Peter  as  can  possibly  be  con- 
ceived —  of  boundless  ambition,  of  iron  will  —  Hilde- 
brand,  who  alone  was  able  to  cope  with  the  difficulties  of 
his  situation.  Then  came  the  Renaissance,  classic  arts, 
pagan  literature ;  and  there  arose  in  the  midst  of  them 
Leo  X.,  as  their  natural  patron,  as  unlike  to  Hildebrand 


248  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

as  Hilclebrand  to  St.  Peter.  Then  came  the  shock  of  the 
Reformation — the  panic,  the  alarm,  the  reaction  —  the 
Muses  were  banished,  the  classic  luxury  was  abolished, 
and  the  very  reverse  oi  Leo  X.  appeared  in  the  austere 

Puritan,  Pius  V.     And  now  we  have  Pius  IX 

And  in  twenty  or  a  hundred  years  we  may  have  a  new 
Pope,  as  unlike  to  Pius  IX.  as  Pius  IX.  is  unlike  to  Pius 
v.,  as  Pius  V.  was  unlike  to  Leo  X.,  as  Leo  X.  was  un- 
like to  Hildebrand,  as  all  were  unlike  to  St.  Peter ;  and 
on  this  I  rest  my  hope  of  the  ultimate  conciliation  of 
Eome  and  Italy,  of  Catholicism  and  freedom." 

Such,  or  nearly  such,  was  the  consolation  administered 
to  himself  by  the  genial  historian  of  Monte  Casino  ;  and 
such,  taken  with  a  wider  range,  is  the  consolation  which 
we  may  minister  to  ourselves  in  viewing  the  changes 
of  an  institution  which,  with  all  its  failings,  cannot  but 
command  a  large  share  of  religious  and  philanthropic 
interest.  It  is  always  within  the  bounds  of  hope,  that 
a  single  individual,  fully  equal  to  the  emergency,  who 
should  by  chance  or  Providence  find  himself  in  that  (or 
any  like)  exalted  seat,  might  work  wonders  —  wonders 
which,  humanly  speaking,  could  not  be  worked,  even  by 
a  man  of  equal  powers,  in  a  situation  less  commanding. 
There  is  a  mediaeval  tale  which  has  even  some  founda- 
tion in  fact,^  that  a  certain  Pope  was  once  accused  be- 
fore a  General  Council  on  the  charge  of  heresy.  He 
was  condemned  to  be  burned  ;  but  it  was  found  tliat  the 
sentence  could  not  be  legally  carried  into  execution  but 
with  the  consent  of  the  Pope  himself.  The  assembled 
Fathers  went  to  the  Pope  —  venerunt  ad  Papam  —  and 
presented  their  humble  petition  —  et  dlxerunt,  0  Papa, 
jiidica  te  cremari ;  and  the  Pope  was  moved  to  pity  for 

1  The  story  is  founded  on  the  deposition  of  Gregory  V.  In  the  real  story  the 
Council  was  not  a  General,  but  a  Provincial  Council ;  the  Pope's  crime  was  not 
heresy,  but  simony:  the  sentence  pronounced  was  not  death,  but  deposition. 


Chap.  XL]  THE   POPE.  249 

the  inextricable  dilemma  in  which  the  Fathers  were 
placed.  He  consented  to  their  prayer.  He  pronounced 
judgment  on  himself — et  dixit,  Judico,  me  cremari ;  and 
his  sentence  was  carried  into  effect  —  et  crematus  est 
—  and  then  in  reverential  gratitude  for  so  heroic  an  act 
of  self-denial  he  was  canonized  —  et  postea  veneratus  pro 
sancto.  Sucli,  although  with  a  more  cheerful  issue, 
might  be  the  solution  of  the  entanglement  of  the  Church 
by  some  future  Pope.  We  have  but  to  imagine  a  man 
of  ordinary  courage,  common  sense,  honesty,  and  dis- 
cernment —  a  man  who  should  have  the  grace  to  perceive 
that  the  highest  honor  which  he  could  confer  on  the 
highest  seat  in  the  Christian  hierarcy,  and  the  highest 
service  he  could  render  to  the  Christian  religion,  would 
be  from  that  lofty  eminence  to  speak  out  to  the  whole 
world  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth.  Such  an  one,  regarding  only  the  facts  of  history, 
but  in  the  plenitude  of  authority  which  he  would  have 
inherited,  and  "  speaking  ex  cathedrd,  in  discharge  of  his 
office  of  pastor  and  doctor  of  all  Christians,"  might  sol- 
emnly pronounce  that  he,  his  predecessors,  and  his  suc- 
cessors, were  fallible,  personally  and  officially,  and  might 
err,  as  they  have  ei-red  again  and  again,  both  in  faith 
and  morals.  By  so  doing  he  would  not  have  contradicted 
the  decree  of  infallibility,  more  than  that  decree  contra- 
dicts the  decrees  of  previous  councils  and  the  declarations 
of  previous  Popes.  By  so  doing  he  would  incur  insult, 
obloquy,  perhaps  death.  But  like  the  legendary  Pope  of 
whom  we  have  spoken,  he  would  have  deserved  the  crown 
of  sanctity,  for  he  would  have  shown  that  quality  which 
above  all  others  belongs  to  saints  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word.  He  would  have  risen  above  the  temptations  of 
his  situation,  his  order,  his  office  ;  he  would  have  relieved 
the  Catholic  Church  from  that  which  its  truest  friends 
feel  to  be  an  intolerable  incubus,  and  restored  it  to  light 
and  freedom. 


250  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

NOTE. 

THE    pope's    posture    IN    THE    COMMUNION. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  curious  circumstances  of  the  curious 
practice  of  the  Pope's  sitting  at  the  Communion,  that  amongst 
Roman  Catholics  themselves  there  should  be  not  only  the  most 
conflicting  evidence  as  to  the  fact,  but  even  entire  ignorance  as 
to  the  practice  ever  having  existed.  In  the  leading  Roman 
Catholic  journal  ^  the  statement  that  such  a  practice  prevailed 
was  asserted  to  be  "  the  purest  romance  ;  "  and  though  this  ex- 
pression was  afterwards  courteously  withdrawn,  yet  the  fact 
was  still  denied,  and  it  appeared  that  there  were  even  well-in- 
structed Roman  Catholics  who  had  never  heard  of  its  existence. 
This  obscurity  on  the  matter  may  perhaps  show  that  it  is  re- 
garded as  of  more  importance  than  would  as  first  sight  ajjpear. 

1.  The  Roman  Liturgies  themselves  have  no  express  state- 
ment on  the  subject.  They  all  agree  in  directing  that  the  Pope 
retires  to  his  lofty  seat  —  "ad  sedem  eminentem  "  —  behind  the 
altar,  and  there  remains.  Some  of  them  add  that  he  "  stands  " 
waiting  for  the  sub-deacon  to  approach  with  the  sacred  elements ; 
but  beyond  this,  with  the  exceptions  hereafter  to  be  noticed, 
there  is  no  order  given. 

2.  The  earliest  indication  of  the  Pope's  position  to  which  a 
reference  is  found  is  in  St.  Bonaventura  (1221-1274),  on  Psalm 
xxi. :  "  Papa  quando  sumit  corpus  Christi  in  missa  solemni, 
sumit  omnibus  videntibus,  nam,  sedens  in  cathedra,  se  convertit 
ad  populum  "  (0pp.  vol.  i.  pp.  Ill,  112);  and  that  this  was 
understood  to  mean  that  he  communicated  sitting  appears  from 
the  marginal  note  of  the  edition  of  Bonaventura  published  by 
order  of  Sixtus  V.  (1230-1296),  "  Pajja  qiiare  communicet 
sedens." 

Durandus,  in  his  "Rationale"  (iv.  §§  4,  5,  p.  203),  and  the 
"Liber  Sacrarum  Cajrimoniarum "  (p.  102),  use  nearly  the 
same  words  :  "  Ascendens  ad  sedem  eminentem  ibi  communicat." 
This  expression,  though  it  would  suggest  that  the  Pope  was 

1  Dublin  Review,  1869. 


Chap.  XI.]         HIS   POSTURE   IN   THE   COMMUNION.  251 

seated,  does  not  of  necessity  imply  it.  But  the  "  Liber  Sacrarum 
Cferimoniarum,"  although  at  Christmas  (p.  133)  it  describes  the 
Pope  immediately  after  his  ascension  of  the  chair  as  "  ibi  stans," 
when  it  speaks  of  Easter  (p.  17G)  expressly  mentions  the  pos- 
ture of  sitting  as  at  least  permissible.  "  Communione  facta, 
Papa  surgit,  si  commiinicando  sedehit." 

Cardinal  Bona  ("Rev.  Lit."  ii.  c.  17,  88;  iii.  p.  395) — than 
whom  there  is  no  higher  authority  —  writes  :  "  Summus  Ponti- 
fex  cum  solemniter  celebrat  sedens  communit  hoc  modo."  ^ 

Martene  (1654-1789),"  De  Ant.  Eccl.  Rit."  i.  4,  10,  p.  421, 
states  that  "  Romae  summus  Pontifex  celebrans  in  sua  sede  con- 
sistens  seipsum  communicabat.  Postea  accedebant  episcopi  et 
presbyteri  ut  a  pontifice  communionem  accipiant,  episcopi  qui- 
dem  stantes  ad  sedem  pontificis,  presbyteri  vero  ad  altarc  geni- 
bus  flexis." 

The  obvious  meaning  of  this  passage  is  that  the  Pope  remains 
("  consistens  ")  ^  in  his  place,  sitting;  whilst  the  other  clergy, 
according  to  their  ranks,  assume  the  different  postures  described, 
the  bishops  standing,  the  presbyters  kneeling.  And  this  is  the 
view  taken  of  it  by  Moroni,  the  chamberlain  and  intimate  friend 
of  the  late  Pope  Gregory  XVI.,  who  cites  these  words  as  show- 
ing "che  in  Roma  il  Papa  commimicccvasi  sedendo  nel  suo  trono" 
(Dizionario,  vol.  xv.  p.  126.) 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  confirm  these  high  Roman  author- 
ities by  the  testimony  of  Protestant  Ritualists.  But  that  it  was 
the  received  opinion  amongst  such  writers  that  the  Pope  sits 
appears  from  the  unhesitating  assertions  to  this  eflfect  by  Bing- 
ham, Neale,  and  Maskell. 

3.  To  these  great  liturgical  authorities  on  the  theory  of  the 
Papal  posture  may  be  added,  besides  Moroni  (whose  words  just 
cited  may  be  taken  as  a  testimony  to  the  practice  of  Gregory 
XVI.),  the  following  witnesses  to  the  usage  of  modern  times. 

The  Rev.  J.  E.  Eustace,  the  well-known  Roman  Catholic 
traveller  through  Italy,  says  :  "  When  the  Pope  is  seated,  the 

'  A  question  has  been  raised  as  to  the  authority  on  which  the  Cardinal  puts 
forth  his  statement.  But  this  does  not  touch  the  authoritj'  of  the  Cardinal  him- 
self. 

2  The  word  itself  means  simply  "  keeping  his  place." 


252  THE   POPE.  [Chai-.  XI. 

two  deacons  bring  the  holy  sacrament,  which  he  first  reveres 
humbly  on  his  knees,  and  then  receives  in  a  sitting  posture." 
Eustace  mentions  the  practice  with  some  repugnance,  and  adds : 
"  Benedict  XIII.  could  never  be  prevailed  upon  to  conform  to 
it,  but  always  remained  standing  at  the  altar,  according  to  the 
usual  practice."     (Eustace's  "Travels,"  ii.  170.) 

Archbishop  Gerbet,  who  has  the  credit  of  having  instigated 
the  recent  "Syllabus,"  and  whose  work  on  "  Rome  Chretienne," 
is  expressly  intended  as  a  guide  to  the  antiquities  of  Christian 
Rome,  writes  as  follows  :  — 

"  Le  Papa  descend  de  I'autel,  traverse  le  sanctuaire  et  monte 
au  siege  pontifical.  Xa,  a  demi  assis,  quoique  incline  par  re- 
spect, il  communie"  etc.  "  L^attitude  du  Pape  et  cette  commun- 
ion muitijjle  ....  retracent  lapremiere  commuiiioii  des  ApGtres 
assis  a  la  table  du  Sauveur."     ("  Rome  Chretienne,"  ii.  86,  87.) 

The  passage  is  the  more  interesting  as  Gerbet's  reference  to 
the  original  attitude  shows  his  belief  that  it  was  the  retention  of 
the  primitive  practice. 

4.  This  mass  of  testimony  might  be  thought  sufficient  to  es- 
tablish so  simple  a  fact.  But  it  will  be  observed  that  there  is 
a  slight  wavering  in  the  statement  of  Martene  and  of  Gerbet ; 
and  this  variation  is  confirmed  by  the  silence  or  by  the  express 
contradiction  of  other  authorities,  not  indeed  so  high,  but  still  of 
considerable  weight. 

It  is  stated  that  in  the  "Ordo"  of  Urban  VIIL,  after  the 
adoration  of  the  sacred  elements  the  Pope  immediately  rises, 
"  statim  surgit ; "  and  that  Crispus,  who  was  sub-deacon  to  Clem- 
ent XL,  says,  "  in  cathedra  sians  et  veliiti  erectus  in  cruce  san- 
guinem  sugit."  These  same  authorities,  with  Catalani,  also 
state  that  after  the  communion  "  the  Pope  takes  his  mitre  and 
sits  down,"  "  sumpta  mitra  sedet,"  or  "  accipit  mitram  et  se- 
dens,"  etc.  It  is  also  said  to  be  mentioned  as  a  peculiarity  that 
on  Easter  Day,  1481,  Sixtus  IV.  was  obliged  by  infirmity  to  sit 
down  during  the  communion  at  High  Mass,  which,  if  so  be, 
would  imply  that  it  was  not  the  usual  posture. 

Dr.  Bagge  (in  his  book  on  the  Pontifical  Mass,  1840)  states 
that  "  the  Pope  does  not  receive  sitting,  as   Eustace  and  others 


Chap.  XL]         HIS   POSTURE   IN   THE   COMMUXION.  253 

assert.  "Wlieu  the  sub-deacon  has  reached  the  throne  the  Pope 
adores  the    Sacred  Host,   the  cardinal-deacon   then    takes  the 

chalice  and  shows  it  to  the  Pope  and  the  people It  is 

carried  from  the  deacon  to  the  Pope,  who,  having  adored,  re- 
mains standing."  ^ 

5.  Between  these  contradictory  statements  there  is  a  middle 
view,  which  probably  contains  the  solution  of  the  enigma,  and  is 
to  be  found  in  the  statements  of  two  authorities,  which  for  this 
reason  are  reserved  for  the  conclusion. 

The  first  is  Rocca  (1545-1620),  who  "was  chosen  corrector 
of  the  press  of  the  Sixtine  Bible,  and  is  said  to  have  excelled 
all  others  in  ecclesiastical  knowledge ;  and  who,  on  account  of 
his  perfect  acciuaintance  with  rubrics  and  the  Liturgies,  was  ap- 
pointed Apostolic  Commentator  by  Pope  Clement  VIII."  '^ 

He  writes  as  follows  (in  his  "  Thesaurus  Rituum,"  in  the 
"  Commentarium  de  Sacra  S.  Pontificis  comraunione,"  20)  : 
Dicitur  autem  Summus  Pontifex  sedere  dum  cnmmunicat.,  vel 
quia  ipse  antiquitus  in  communicando  sedebat,  vel  quia  sedentis 
instar  communicabat,  sicut  prcesens  in  tempus  jieri  solet.  Sum- 
mus namque  Pontifex  ad  solium,  stans  non  sedens,  ad  majorem 
venerationem  reprtesentandam,  ipsi  tamen  solio,  populo  universo 
spectante,  innixus,  et  incurmis.  quasi  sedens  communicat,  Chris- 
tum Dominum  cruci  affixum,  in  eaque  quodam  modo  I'ecliuan- 
tem  rep raeseu tans." 

The  other  is  Pope  Benedict  XIV.  (1740-1758),  who  thus 
writes  in  his  treatise  "  De  Sacrosancto  Missce  Sacrificio,"  lib.  ii. 
c.  21,  §  7  :  "  Illud  autem  prtetermitti  non  potest,  Romanes  quos- 
dam  Pontifices  in  solemni  Missa  in  solio  sedentes,  facie  ad  pop- 
ulum  conversa,  JEucharistiam  sumere  consuevisse,  ut  Christi 
Passio  et  Mors  experimeretur,  qui  pro  palam  passus  et  mortuus 
est  in  conspectu  omnium,  quotquot  nef'arije  Crucifixioiii  adfuere 
tamen  (?)  vero  Summum  Pontificem,  cum  solemnem  celebrat 
Missam,   se  aliosque  communicare   facie  quidem    ad   populum 

1  These  quotations,  whicli  I  have  not  been  able  to  verih',  are  taken  from  the 
statements  of  the  writer  in  the  Dublin  Ri^view,  April,  18G9,  pp.  514,  515. 

2  Dublin  Review,  April,  1869,  p.  516.  The  same  passage  extracts  from  the 
sentence  quoted  in  the  text,  '  Summus  Pontifex  ad  solium  stans,  non  sedens," 
but  omits  all  that  precedes  and  all  that  follows. 


254  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

conversa,  sed  pedibus  stantem  in  solio,  corpore  tamen  inclinato, 

cum  et  ipse  suscipit,  aliisque  prtebet  Eucharistiam Hinc 

est  quamobretn  Pontifex  populo,  procul  et  exadverso  in  faciem 
eum  adspicienti,  videatur  sedens  communicare,  ut  bene  observa- 
bat  post  S.  Bonaventuram  Rocca  de  solemni  communione 
Summi  Pontificis  et  Casalius  de  veteribus  Sacris  Christianorum 
Ritibus,  cap.  81,  p.  333,  ed.  Rom.  1647." 

From  these  two  statements  it  appears  that  the  Popes  in  an- 
cient times  sat  whilst  communicating,  but  that  from  the  close  of 
the  sixteenth  century  they  usually  stood  in  a  leaning  or  half- 
sitting  posture. 

To  these  must  be  added  a  further  statement  of  Pope  Benedict 
XIV.,  in  a  letter  addressed  in  1757  to  the  Master  of  the  Pontif- 
ical Ceremonies,  on  the  general  question  of  the  lawfulness,  un- 
der certain  circumstances,  of  celebrating  Mass  in  a  sitting  post- 
ure. 

The  general  cases  which  raise  the  question  are  of  gout  and 
the  like ;  but  in  the  course  of  the  discussion  the  Pope  describes 
some  particulars  respecting  his  predecessors  bearing  on  the  pres- 
ent subject. 

Pius  III.  was  elected  to  the  Pontificate  (in  1503)  when  he 
was  still  only  a  deacon.  He  was  ordained  priest  on  the  1st  of 
October,  and  on  the  8th  of  October  he  himself  celebrated  Mass 
as  Pope.  On  both  of  these  occasions  (being  troubled  by  an 
ulcer  in  the  leg)  he  sat  during  the  whole  cei-emony ;  a  seat  was 
solemnly  prepared,  in  which  he  was  to  sit,  and  the  altar  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  a  long  table,  under  which  he  might  stretch 
his  legs  (''  sedem  in  quii  sedens  extensis  cruribus  ordinaretur, 
et  mensam  longam  pro  altari  ut  pedes  subtus  extendi  possent  "). 
It  also  appears  that  in  the  Papal  chapel  it  is  considered  gener- 
ally that  the  Pope  has  liberty  to  sit  whilst  he  administers  the 
elements  to  his  court.  It  appears,  further,  that  (also  without 
any  reference  to  special  cases)  the  Pope  sits  during  the  cere- 
mony of  his  ordination  as  sub-deacon,  deacon,  and  presbyter,  if 
he  has  been  elected  to  the  Pontificate  before  such  ordination  ; 
and  that  the  fact  of  this  posture  during  the  Holy  Communion 
was  considered  by  Benedict  XIV.  to  cover  the  question  gener- 


Chap.  XL]  HIS   POSTURE   IN    THE   COMMUNION.  255 

ally.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  quote  the  passage  which  relates  to 
the  ordination  of  a  Pope  as  priest.  "In  collaMone  sacerdotii 
sedens  Ponlifex  manuum  impositiouem,  olei  sancti,  quod  catechu- 
menorum  dicitur,  unctionem,  calicem  cum  vino  et  aqua,  et  pati- 
nam  cum  hostia,  recipit.  Quaj  omnia  luculenter  ostendunt  haud 
inconveniens  esse  sedere  Pontijlcem  in  functionihiis  sacratis- 
simis,  utque  eo  ipso  Missam  totam  a  sedente  posse  celebrari, 
p?-(ssertim  si  pedihts  dehiUtatis  insistere  non  valeat."  He  con- 
cludes with  this  pertinent  address  on  his  own  behalf  to  the 
Master  of  the  Ceremonies :  "  Et,  siquidem  sedentes  missam  cele- 
brare  statuimus,  tuum  erit  jirieparare  mensam  altaris  cum  conse- 
crato  lapide,"  etc.,  "  vacuumque  subtus  altare  spatium  relinqua- 
turextendendis  pedibus  idoneum ;  confidentes  singula  dexteritati 
tuae  singular!  perficienda,  apostolicam  tibi  benedictionem  per- 
amanter  impertimur."  ■" 

6.  The  conclusion,  therefore,  of  the  whole  matter  must  be 
this.  In  early  times,  probably  down  to  the  reign  of  Sixtus  V. 
(as  indicated  in  the  marginal  note  on  St.  Bonaventura),  the 
position  of  the  Pope  was  sitting,  as  a  venerable  relic  of  primitive 
ages.  Gradually,  as  appears  from  the  words  of  Eustace,  the 
value  of  this  tenacious  and  interesting  adherence  to  the  ancient 
usage  was  depreciated  from  its  apparent  variation  from  the  gen- 
eral sentiment,  as  expressed  in  the  standing  posture  of  pi'iests 
and  the  kneeling  attitude  of  the  communicants,  and  it  would 
seem  that  before  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  custom 
had  been  in  part  abandoned.     But  with  that  remarkable  ten- 

J  0pp.  xvii.  474,  489.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  acceptance  of  the  chalice 
and  paten  by  the  Pope  at  his  ordinations  is  not  of  itself  the  Communion.  It 
must  be  further  noticed  that  the  Pope  in  thus  writing  makes  this  qualification  : 
"  Dum  Ronianus  Pontifexsolemnitercelebrat,  ....  recipit  sacram  Eucharistiam 
sub  speciebus  panis  etvini  stans,  neque  sedens  communicat,  prout  per  errorem 
scripserunt  aliqui,  viderique  potest  tom.  ii.  Tract  Nostri  de  Sac.  Missce,  sect.  i. 
c.  20,  §  1."  It  is  a  curious  example  of  what  ma}' be  called  "the  audacity" 
i^hich  sometimes  characterizes  e.Kpressions  of  Pontifical  opinion,  that  the  very 
passage  to  which  Benedict  XIV.,  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  thus  referred  to  as 
"an  erroneous  statement"  of  the  Pope's  "sitting  at  the  Communion,"  contains 
his  own  assertion  that  "some  of  the  Roman  Pontiffs  in  solemn  mass  were  accus- 
tomed to  receive  the  Eucharist  sitting."  In  fact,  it  is  difhcult  to  reconcile  the 
statement  in  the  letter  just  quoted  with  the  passages  which  are  quoted  in  the 
text. 


256  THE  POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

acity  of  ecclesiastical  usages,  which  retains  particles  of  such 
usages  when  the  larger  part  has  disappeared,  the  ancieut  pos- 
ture was  not  wholly  given  up.  As  the  wafer  and  the  chalice 
are  but  minute  fragments  of  the  ancient  Supper  —  as  the  stand- 
ing posture  of  the  priests  is  a  remnant  of  the  standing  posture 
of  devotion  through  the  whole  Christian  Church —  as  the  stand- 
ing posture  of  the  English  clergyman  during  part  of  the  Com- 
munion Service  is  a  remnant  of  the  standing  posture  of  the 
Catholic  clergy  through  the  whole  of  it  —  as  the  sitting  posture 
of  the  earlier  Popes  was  a  remnant  of  the  sitting  or  recumbent 
posture  of  the  primitive  Christian  days  —  so  the  partial  atti- 
tude of  the  present  Popes  is  a  remnant  of  the  sitting  posture  of 
their  predecessors.  It  is  a  compromise  between  the  ancient  his- 
torical usage  and  modern  decorum.  The  Pope's  attitude,  so  we 
gather  from  Rocca  and  Benedict  XIV.,  and  also  from  Arch- 
bishop Gerbet,  is  neither  of  standing  nor  of  sitting.  Pie  goes 
to  his  lofty  chair,  he  stands  till  the  sub-deacon  comes,  he  bows 
himself  down  in  adoration  as  the  Host  approaches.  Thus  far 
all  are  agreed,  though  it  is  evident  that  at  a  distance  any  one 
of  those  postures  might  be  taken,  as  it  has  by  some  spectators, 
for  the  posture  at  the  act  of  communion.  But  in  the  act  of 
communion,  as  far  as  we  can  gather  from  the  chief  authorities, 
he  is  in  his  chair,  facing  the  people,  leaning  against  the  back  of 
the  chair,  so  as  not  to  abandon  entirely  the  attitude  of  sitting  — 
sufficiently  erect  to  give  the  appearance  of  standing,  with  his 
head  and  body  bent  down  to  express  the  reverence  due  to  the 
sacred  elements.  This  complex  attitude  would  account  for  the 
contradictions  of  eye-witnesses,  and  the  difficulty  of  making  so 
peculiar  a  compromise  would  perhaps  cause  a  variation  in  the 
posture  of  particular  Popes,  or  even  of  the  same  Pope  on  par- 
ticular occasions.  What  to  one  spectator  would  seem  standing, 
to  another  would  seem  sitting,  and  to  another  might  seem  kneel- 
ing. 

This  endeavor  to  combine  a  prescribed  attitude  either  with 
convenience  or  with  a  change  of  sentiment  is  not  uncommon. 
One  parallel  instance  has  been  often  adduced  in  the  case  of  the 
Popes  themselves.  In  the  great  procession  on  Corpus  Christi 
Day,  when  the  Pope  is  carried  in  a  palanquin  round  the  Piazza 


Chap.  XI.]        HIS   POSTURE  IN   THE  COMMUNION.  257 

of  St.  Peter,  it  is  generally  believed  that,  whilst  he  appears  to 
be  in  a  kneeling  attitude,  the  cushions  and  furniture  of  the  pal- 
anquin are  so  arranged  as  to  enable  him  to  bear  the  fatigue  of 
the  ceremony  by  sitting,  whilst  to  the  spectators  he  appears  to  be 
kneeling.-^  Another  parallel  is  to  be  found  from  another  point 
of  view,  in  one  of  the  few  other  instances  in  which  the  posture 
of  sitting  has  been  retained,  or  rather  adopted,  namely  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  Scotland.  There  the  attitude  of  sitting 
was  rigidly  prescribed.  But,  if  we  may  trust  an  account  of  the 
Scottish  Sacrament,  believed  to  be  as  accurate  as  it  is  poetic, 
the  posture  of  the  devout  Presbyterian  peasant  as  nearly  as 
possible  corresponds  to  that  which  Rocca,  Gerbet,  and  Benedict 
XIV.  give  of  the  Pope's  present  attitude  —  "  innixus,"  "incur- 
vus  inclinato  corpore,"  "  a  demi  assis,"  "  uue  profonde  inclina- 
tion de  corps  : "  — 

"There  thej'  sit    ...     . 
.     .     .     .     In  reverence  meet 
Many  an  ej'e  to  heaven  is  lifted, 

Meek  and  very  lowly. 
Souls  bowed  down  with  reverent  fear, 
Hoary-headed  elders  niovint;, 
Bear  the  hallowed  bread  and  wine, 
While  devoutly  still  the  people 
Low  in  prayer  bow  the  head."  2 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  this  ancient  usage  becoming  small 
by  degrees  and  beautifully  less,  yet  still  not  entirely  extin- 
guished :  reduced  from  recumbency  to  sitting,  from  the  sitting  of 
all  to  the  sitting  of  a  single  person,  from  the  sitting  of  a  single 
person  to  the  doubtful  reminiscence  of  his  sitting,  by  a  posture 
half-sitting,  half-standing. 

The  compromise  of  the  Pope's  actual  posture  is  a  character- 
istic specimen  of  that  "  singular  dexterity "  which  Benedict 
XIV.  attributes  to  his  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  and  which 
has  so  often  marked  the  proceedings  of  the  Roman  court.  To 
have  devised  a  posture  by  which,  as  on  the  festival  of  Corpus 
Christi,  the  Pope  can  at  once  sit  and  kneel ;  or  —  as  in  the  cases 

1  See  the  minute  account  of  an  eye-witness  in  1830  in  Crabbe  Robinson's 
Diary,  ii.  4fi9. 

2  Kilmahoe;  and  other  Poems.     By  J.  C.  Sliairp. 

10 


258  THE   POPE.  [Chap.  XI. 

mentioned  by  Pope  Benedict  XIV.  —  an  arrangement  by  which 
the  Pope,  whilst  sitting,  can  "  stretch  his  legs  in  the  vacant  space 
under  tlie  altar  "  ;  or,  as  in  the  case  we  have  been  considering, 
a  position  of  standing  so  as  to  give  the  appearance  of  sitting, 
and  sitting  so  as  to  give  the  appearance  of  standing  —  is  a  mi- 
nute example  of  the  subtle  genius  of  the  institution  of  the  Pa- 
pacy. As  the  practice  itself  is  a  straw,  indicating  the  move- 
ment of  primitive  antiquity,  so  the  modern  compromise  is  a 
straw,  indicating  the  movement  of  the  Roman  Church  in  later 
times. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   LITANY. 

The  Litany  is  one  of  the  most  popular  parts  of  the 
English  Prayer  Book.  It  is  not  one  of  the  most  ancient 
parts,  but  it  is  sufficiently  ancient  to  demand  an  inquiry 
into  its  peculiarities,  and  its  peculiarities  are  sufficiently 
marked  to  demand  a  statement. 

I.  First,  as  to  its  origin.  It  is  one  of  the  parts  of  the 
Prayer  Book  which  has  its  origin  in  a  time  neither  prim- 
itive nor  reformed.  For  four  hundred  years  there  were 
no  prayers  of  this  special  kind  in  the  Christian  Church  ; 
nor,  again,  in  the  Reformed  Church  were  any  prayers 
like  it  introduced  afresh.  It  sprang  from  an  age  gloomy 
with  disaster  and  superstition,  when  heathenism  was  still 
struggling  with  Christianity ;  when  Christianity  was  dis- 
figured by  fierce  conflicts  within  the  Church  ;  when  the 
Roman  Empire  was  tottering  to  its  ruin ;  when  the  last 
great  luminary  of  the  Church — Augustine — had  just 
passed  away,  amidst  the  forebodings  of  universal  de- 
struction. It  was  occasioned  also  by  a  combination  of 
circumstances  of  the  most  peculiar  character.  The  gen- 
eral disorder  of  the  time  was  aggravated  by  an  unusual 
train  of  calamities.  Besides  the  ruin  of  society,  attend- 
ant on  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians,  there  came  a  suc- 
cession of  droughts,  pestilences,  and  earthquakes,  which 
seemed  to  keep  pace  with  the  throes  of  the  moral  world. 
Of  all  these  horrors,  France  was  the  centre.  On  one  of 
these  occasions,  when  the  people  had  been  hoping  that, 
with  the  Easter  festival,  some  respite  would  come,  a  sud- 


260  THE   LITANY.  [Chap.  XII. 

den  earthquake  shook  the  church  at  Vienne,  on  the 
Rhone.  It  was  on  Easter  eve  ;  the  congregation  rushed 
out ;  the  bishop  of  the  city  (Mamertus)  was  left  alone 
before  the  altar.  On  that  terrible  night  he  formed  a 
resolution  of  inventing  a  new  form,  as  he  hoped,  of 
drawing  down  the  mercy  of  God.  He  determined  that 
in  the  three  days  before  Ascension  day  there  should  be 
a  long  procession  to  the  nearest  churches  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. From  Vienne  the  custom  spread.  Amongst 
the  vine-clad  mountains,  the  extinct  volcanoes  of  Au- 
vergne,  the  practice  was  taken  up  with  renewed  fervor. 
From  town  to  town  it  ran  through  France  ;  it  seemed 
to  be  a  new  vent  for  a  hitherto  pent-up  devotion  —  a 
new  spell  for  chasing  away  the  evils  of  mankind.  Such 
was  the  first  Litany  —  a  popular  supplication,  sung  or 
shouted,  not  within  the  walls  of  any  consecrated  building, 
but  by  wild,  excited  multitudes,  following  each  other  in 
long  files,  through  street  and  field,  over  hill  and  valley,  as 
if  to  bid  nature  join  in  the  depth  of  their  contrition.  It 
was,  in  short,  what  we  should  call  a  revival.-^ 

It  is  only  by  an  effort  that  we  can  trace  the  identity  of 
a  modern  Litany  with  those  strange  and  moving  scenes. 
Our  attention  may,  however,  be  well  called  to  the  con- 
trast, for  various  reasons. 

1.  We  do  well  to  remember  that  a  good  custom  does  not 
lose  its  goodness,  because  it  arose  in  a  bad  time,  in  a  cor- 
rupt age,  in  a  barbarous  country.     Oat  of  such 

Its  origin.         1       1      1         •        •  1  c  -i        , 

dark  beginnings  nave  sprung  some  or  our  best 

1  Sidonius  Apollinaris,  i.  7;  Gregorj'  of  Tours  {Bist.  Franc,  ii.  6.  34),  A.  d. 
447.  There  were  some  earlier  and  some  later  developments  of  this  practice,  but 
this  seems  the  most  authentic  statement  of  their  first  beginning.  The  brief 
form  of  "  Kyrie  Eleeson  "  ha<l  existed  before.  It  first  occurs  in  the  heathen 
worship.  "When  we  call  upon  God,  we  saj'  of  him  Kvpie  i\tiq<Tov.'"  (Arrian, 
Comment,  de  Epist.  Disjmt.  ii.  c.  7.)  The  Litany  for  St.  Mark's  Day  was  in- 
stituted A.  D.  590  by  Gregory  the  Great,  partly  to  avert  a  pestilence,  partly 
as  a  substitute  for  a  procession  which  was  held  by  the  ancient  Romans  to  pro- 
pitiate the  goddess  Robigo,  or  Mildew. 


Chap.  XII.]  ITS   ORIGIN.  261 

institutions.  In  order  for  a  practice  or  a  doctrine  to  bear 
good  Christian  fruit,  we  need  not  demand  that  its  first 
origin  should  be  primitive,  or  Protestant,  or  civilized ;  it 
is  enough  that  it  should  be  good  in  itself  and  productive 
of  good  effects. 

2.  Again,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  the  goodness  of 
a  thing  depends  not  on  its  outward  form,  but  on  its  in- 
ward spirit.  The  very  word  "  Litany,"  in  its  first  origin, 
included  long  processions,  marches  to  and  fro,  cries  and 
screams,  which  have  now  disappeared  almost  everywhere 
from  public  devotions,  even  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  Those  who  established  it  would  not  have  imag- 
ined that  a  Litany  without  these  accompaniments  could 
have  any  eflBcacy  whatever.  We  know  now  that  the  ac- 
companiments were  mere  accidents,  and  that  the  sub- 
stance has  continued.  What  has  happened  in  the  Litany 
has  occurred  again  and  again  with  every  part  of  our  eccle- 
siastical system.  Always  the  form  and  the  letter  are 
perishing ;  always  there  will  be  some  who  think  that  the 
form  and  the  letter  are  the  thing  itself  ;  generally  in  the 
Christian  Church  there  is  enough  vitality  to  keep  the 
spirit,  though  the  form  is  changed  ;  generally,  we  trust, 
as  in  the  Litany,  so  elsewhere,  there  will  be  found  men 
wise  enougli  and  bold  enough  to  retain  the  good  and 
throw  off  the  bad  in  all  the  various  forms  of  our  relig- 
ious and  ecclesiastical  life. 

3.  Again,  there  is  a  peculiar  charm  and  interest  in 
knowing  the  accidental  historical  origin  of  this  service. 
To  any  one  who  has  a  heart  to  feel  and  an  imagination  to 
carry  him  backwards  and  forwards  along  the  fields  of 
time,  there  is  a  pleasure,  an  edification  in  the  reflection 
that  the  prayers  which  we  use  were  not  comj^osed  in  the 
dreamy  solitude  of  the  closet  or  the  convent,  but  were 
wrung  out  of  the  necessities  of  human  sufferers  like  our- 
selves.    If,  here  and  there,  we  catch  a  note  of  some  ex- 


262  THE   LITANY.  [Chap.  XIL 

pression  not  wholly  suitable  to  our  own  age,  there  is  yet 
something  at  once  grand  and  comforting  in  the  recollec- 
tion that  we  hear  in  those  responses  the  echoes  of  the 
thunders  and  earthquakes  of  central  France,  of  the  irrup- 
tion of  wild  barbarian  hordes,  of  the  ruin  of  the  falling 
empire  ;  that  the  Litany  which  we  use  for  our  homelier 
Borrows  was,  as  Hooker  says,  "  the  very  strength  and 
comfort  of  the  Church  "  in  that  awful  distress  of  nations. 
"  The  offences  of  our  forefathers,"  the  "  vengeance  on  our 
sins,"  the  "  lightning  and  tempest,"  the  "  plague,  pesti- 
lence, and  famine,"  the  "  battle  and  murder,  and  sudden 
death,"  the  "  prisoners  and  captives,"  the  "  desolate  and 
oppressed,"  the  "troubles  and  adversities,"  the  "hurt  of 
pei'secutions,"  —  all  these  phrases  receive  a  double  force 
if  they  recall  to  us  the  terrors  of  that  dark,  disastrous 
time,  when  the  old  world  was  hastening  to  its  end,  and 
the  new  was  hardly  struggling  into  existence. 

4.  Further,  it  was  under  a  like  pressure  of  calamities 
that  the  Litany  first  became  part  of  our  services.  It  is 
the  earliest  portion  of  the  English  Prayer  Book  that  ap- 
peared in  its  present  English  form.  It  was  translated 
from  Latin  into  English  either  by  Archbishop  Cranmer 
or  by  King  Henry  VIII.  himself.  These  are  the  words 
with  which,  on  the  eve  of  his  expedition  to  Finance  in 
1544,  he  sent  this  first  instalment  of  the  Prayer  Book  to 
Cranmer :  "  Calling  to  our  remembrance  the  miserable 
state  of  all  Christendom,  being  at  this  present  time 
plagued,  besides  all  other  troubles,  with  most  cruel  wars, 
hatreds,  and  disunions,  ....  the  help  and  remedy  hereof 
being  far  exceeding  the  power  of  any  man,  must  be 
called  for  of  Him  who  only  is  able  to  grant  our  petitions, 
and  never  forsaketh  or  repelleth  any  that  firmly  believe 
and  faithfully  call  upon  Him ;  unto  whom  also  the  ex- 
amples of  Scripture  encourage  us  in  all  these  and  others 
our  troubles  and  perplexities  to  flee.     Being  therefore  re- 


Chap.  XII.]  ITS   ORIGIN.  263 

solved  to  have  continually  from  henceforth  general  pro- 
cessions in  all  cities,  towns,  and  churches  or  parishes  of 
this  our  realm,  ....  forasmuch  as  heretofore  the  peo- 
ple, partly  foi  lack  of  good  instruction,  partly  that  the}^ 
understood  no  part  of  such  prayers  and  suffrages  as  were 
used  to  be  said  and  sung,  have  used  to  come  very  slackly, 
we  have  set  forth  certain  goodly  prayers  and  suffrages 
in  our  native  English  tongue,  which  we  send  you  here- 
with." ' 

Thus  it  is  that  whilst  the  Litany  at  its  first  beginning 
expressed  the  distress  of  the  first  great  convulsion  of  Eu- 
rope in  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  Litany  in  its 
present  form  expressed  the  cry  of  distress  in  that  second 
great  convulsion  which  accompanied  the  Reformation. 
It  is  the  first  utterance  of  the  English  nation  in  its  own 
native  English  tongue,  calling  for  divine  help,  in  that  ex- 
tremity of  perplexity,  when  men's  hearts  were  divided 
between  hope  and  despair  for  the  fear  of  those  things 
that  were  coming  on  the  earth. 

5.  In  like  manner  many  a  time  have  those  expressions 
of  awe  and  fear  struck  some  chord  in  the  hearts  of  in- 
dividuals, far  more  deeply  than  had  they  been  more 
calmly  and  deliberately  composed  at  first. 

How  affecting  is  that  account  of  Samuel  Johnson, 
whom,  in  the  church  of  St.  Clement  Danes,  his  biog- 
rapher overheard  repeating  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  emotion  the  petition  which  touched  the  only  sensi- 
tive chord  in  his  strong  mind,  "  In  the  hour  of  death 
and  in  the  day  of  judgment,  good  Lord  deliver  us  !  " 
How  striking  was  the  use  made  by  a  great  orator  of  the 
words  of  another  clause,  when,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
omission  of  the  name  of  an  unfortunate  princess  from 
the  Liturgy,  he  said  that  there  was  at  least  one  passage 
in  the  Litany  where  all  might  think  of  her  and  pray  for 
her  —  amongst  those  who  were  "  desolate  and  oppressed." 

1  Froude's  History  of  Enffland,  W.  482. 


264  THE  LITANY.  [Chap.  XII. 

II.  Secondly,  it  is  instructive  to  notice  how,  in  suo- 
ceedinff  ages,  the  particuhir  grievance  or  want 

Its  contents.        p      ,  •  .  „  .  .,,     , 

01  the  time,  sometimes  well,  sometimes  ill,  has 
labored  to  express  itself  amongst  these  petitions. 

1.  It  was  natural  that,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI., 
when  the  burdensome  yoke  of  the  see  of  Rome  had  only 
just  been  shaken  off,  a  prayer  should  been  added, — 
"  From  the  tyranny  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  and  from  all 
his  detestable  enormities,  good  Lord  deliver  us."  This 
was  perhaps  excusable  under  the  circumstances  ;  but  it 
is  a  matter  of  rejoicing  that,  by  the  wisdom  of  Elizabeth, 
this  fierce  expression  should  have  been  struck  out. 

2.  Again,  amidst  the  general  unsettlement  of  civil  and 
religious  society  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  of 
Charles  II.,  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  petitions  should 
have  been  crowded  with  alarms,  in  the  first  instance,  of 
"  sedition,  privy  conspiracy,  false  doctrine,  and  heresy," 
or  "  hardness  of  heart  and  contempt  of  God's  command- 
ments ;  "  in  the  second  instance  of  "  rebellion  and  schism." 

These  expressions  dwell  too  exclusively  on  the  dan- 
gers of  disorder  and  anarchy,  and  too  little  on  the  dan- 
gers of  despotism  and  arbitrary  power.  Yet  there  is 
one  petition,  which  first  came  in  with  the  dawn  of  the 
Reformation,  which  no  ancient  Litany  seems  to  have  con- 
tained, and  yet  which  attacks  the  chief  sin  that  called 
down  the  displeasure  of  Christ  —  the  prayer  against  liy- 
'pocrisy.  It  is  not  unimportant  to  remember  that  in  the 
prayer  against  that  sin,  in  its  full  extent  —  the  sin  of 
acting  a  part  —  the  sin  of  disregarding  truth  —  the  sin  of 
regarding  the  outward  move  than  the  inward — in  that 
one  prayer  is  summed  up  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Refor- 
mation. 

3.  Again,  the  present  Litany  stands  alone  in  the 
prominence  which  it  gives,  and  the  emphasis  which  it 
imparts,  to   the  prayer  for    the    sovereign.      It    was    no 


Chap.  XII.]  ITS   CONTENTS.  265 

doubt  intended  to  be  the  expression  of  the  great  princi- 
ple vindicated  in  Hooker's  "  Ecclesiastical  Polity,"  that 
the  sovereign,  as  representative  of  the  law,  controls  and 
guides  the  whole  concerns  both  of  Church  and  State, 
It  was  the  expression  of  the  wish  to  secure  for  the  in- 
terest of  the  State  no  less  than  for  the  interest  of  the 
clergy,  not  merely  as  in  the  old  Litanies,  victory  abroad, 
and  peace  at  home,  but  righteousness  and  holiness  of 
life,  the  faith,  the  fear,  and  the  love  of  God. 

4.  Again,  as  we  read  some  of  the  petitions  we  cannot 
but  call  to  mind  the  wishes  of  good  men  that  something 
might  have  been  added  or  explained.  The  prayer 
against  sudden  death.  —  Earnestly  did  the  Puritan  divines 
in  the  time  of  Charles  II.  entreat  that  this  might  be  ex- 
panded into  what  was  probably  intended,  and  what  in 
fact  existed  in  the  older  forms —  "  From  dying  suddenly 
and  unprepared."  It  was  a  natural  scruple.  Many  a 
one  has  felt  that  "  sudden  death  "  would  be  a  blessing 
and  not  a  curse  —  and  that  to  those  who  are  prepared, 
no  death  can  be  sudden.  The  hard,  uncompromising 
rulers  of  that  age  refused  to  listen  to  the  remonstrance  ; 
and  we,  as  we  utter  the  prayer  in  its  unaltered  form, 
may  justly  feel  a  momentary  pang  at  the  thought  of  the 
good  men  on  whose  consciences  they  thus  needlessly 
trampled. 

Again,  let  any  reflect  on  the  changes  meditated  by  the 
good  men  who  made  the  last  attempt  of  revision  in  1689  : 
"  From  all  rash  censure  and  contention; "  and  again, 
"from  drunkenness  and  gluttony,'''  "from  sloth  and  mis- 
spending of  our  time,'''  from  lying  and  slandering,  from 
vain  swearing,  cursing,  and  perjury,  from  covetousness, 
oppression,  and  all  injustice,  good  Lord  deliver  us  ;  " 
"  let  it  please  Thee  to  endue  us  with  the  graces  of 
humility  and  meekness,  of  contentedness  and  patience,  of 
true  justice,  of  temperance  and  purity,  of  peaceableness 


266  THE   LITANY.  [Chap.  XII. 

» 
and  cJiarity'"'  "  and  have  pity  upon  all  that  are  perse- 
cuted for  truth  and  righteousness  sake.'''  In  these  in- 
tended additions  of  Tillotson,  Burnet,  and  Patrick,  we 
see  at  once  the  keen  sense  of  the  evils,  some  of  them  pe- 
culiar to  that  age  —  of  the  higher  virtues,  also  peculiar 
to  that  age  no  less. 

Again,  in  our  own  times  it  has  been  recorded  of  Ai'ch- 
bishop  Whately,  that  when  he  came  to  the  prayer  that 
we  might  not  "  be  hurt  by  persecutions,"  he  always 
added  internally  a  prayer,  "  that  we  may  not  be  perse- 
cutors." This  was  a  holy  and  a  noble  thought,  much 
needed,  well  supplied,  which  perhaps  before  our  age  it 
would  hardly  have  occurred  to  any  ecclesiastic  to  utter. 

In  this  way  the  Litany  has  grown  with  the  growth  of 
Christendom  ;  and  may,  without  any  direct  change,  sug- 
gest even  more  than  it  says  to  those  Avho  use  it  rightly. 

III.  We  turn  from  the  occasion  and  the  growth  of  the 

Litany  to  the  form  in  which  it  is  expressed.     That  form 

is  very  peculiar,  and  its   explanation  is  to  be 

Its  form.  1       •  1  •  (••(->•  1  • 

song^lit  in  the  occasion  ot  its  first  introduction. 
The  usual  mode  of  addressing  our  prayers,  both  in  the 
Scriptures  and  in  the  Prayer  Book,  is  to  God,  our 
Father,  through  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  form  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  after  which  manner  we  are  all  taught  to 
pray.  This  is  the  form  throughout  the  New  Testament, 
with  two  exceptions,  which  shall  be  noticed  presently. 
This  was  the  general  mode  of  prayer  throughout  the 
early  ages  of  the  Church.  Even  those  earlier  forms  of 
prayer  which  are  most  like  the  Litany  are  for  the  first 
three  hundred  years  of  the  Church  always  addressed 
direct  to  God  the  Father.^  It  was  the  normal  condition 
of  the  only  part  of  the  Liturgy  that  is  of  ancient  use 
—  that  of  the  Eucharist.  In  conformity  with  this,  is 
the  plan  adopted  in  almost  all  the  collects  and  prayers 

1  See  Keble's  EuchariMical  Adoration,  p.  114. 


Chap.  XIL]  ITS    FORM.  267 

in  the  other  parts  of  the  English  Prayer  Book.  Most 
important  >is  this,  both  because  only  by  so  doing  do  we 
fulfil  the  express  commands  of  Christ  and  also  because  it 
thus  keeps  before  our  minds  the  truth,  which  the  Script- 
ures never  allow  us  to  let  go,  of  the  Unity  of  Almighty 
God.  Most  fully,  too,  have  the  greatest  ecclesiastical 
authorities  on  this  subject  recognized  both  the  doctrine 
and  the  fact,  that,  as  a  general  rule,  prayer  ought  to  be 
addressed,  and  has  in  the  usual  form  of  ancient  catholic 
devotion  been  always  addressed,  only  to  God  the  Father. 
But  there  are  exceptions.  No  rule,  even  in  these 
sacred  matters,  is  so  rigid  as  not  to  admit  some  varia- 
tions. The  largest  number  of  such  variations  are  in  the 
poetical  parts  of  the  service,  and  are  probably  connected 
with  the  peculiar  feeling  which  led  to  the  use  of  poetic 
diction  in  public  worship.  But  the  most  remarkable 
exception  is  the  Litany.  It  is  not  perhaps  certain  that 
all  the  petitions  are  addressed  to  Christ ;  ^  but  at  any 
rate,  a  large  portion  are  so  addressed.  It  stands  in  this 
respect  almost  isolated  amidst  the  rest  of  the  Prayer 
Book.  What  is  the  reason  —  what  is  the  defence  for 
this  ?  Many  excellent  persons  have  at  times  felt  a  scru- 
ple at  such  a  deviation  from  the  precepts  of  Scripture 
and  from  the  practice  of  ancient  Christendom.  What 
are  we  to  say  to  explain  it  ?  The  explanation  may 
be  found  in  the  original  circumstances  under  which  the 
Litany  was  introduced.  When  the  soul  is  overwhelmed 
with  difficulties  and  distresses,  like  those  which  caused 
the  French  Christians  in  the  fifth  century  to  utter  their 
piteous  supplications  to  God,  it  seems  to  be  placed  in 
a  different  posture  from  that  of  common  life.  The  in- 
visible world  is  brought  much  nearer  —  the  language,  the 

1  "We  beseech  Thee  to  hear  us,  O  Lord,"  is  hi  the  older  Litanies  addressed 
to  God  (Martene,  iii.  52),  and  so  it  would  seem  to  be  in  some  of  the  petitions  in 
the  English  Litany.  But  perhaps  the  most  natural  interpretation  is  to  regard 
the  whole  as  addressed  to  Christ. 


268  THE   LITANY.  [Chap.  XII. 

feelings,  of  the  heart  become  more  impassioned,  more 
vehement,  more  m-gent.  The  inhabitants,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  workl  of  spirits  seem  to  become  present  to  oar 
spirits  ;  the  words  of  common  intercourse  seem  unequal 
to  convey  the  thoughts  which  are  laboring  to  express 
themselves.  As  in  poetry,  so  in  sorrow,  and  for  a  simi- 
lar reason,  our  ordinary  forms  of  speech  are  changed. 
So  it  was  in  the  two  exceptions  which  occur  in  the  New 
Testament.  When  Stephen  was  in  the  midst  of  his  ene 
mies,  and  no  help  for  him  left  on  earth,  then  "•  the  heavens 
were  opened,  and  he  saw  the  Son  of  Man  standing  on 
the  right  hand  of  God,"  and,  tlius  seeing  Him,  he  ad- 
dressed his  petition  straight  to  Him  —  "  Lord  Jesus,  re- 
ceive my  spirit  —  Lord  lay  not  this  sin  to  their  charge." 
When  St.  Paul  was  deeply  oppressed  by  the  thorn  in 
the  flesh,  then  again  his  Lord  appeared  to  him  (we  know 
not  how),  and  then  to  Him,  present  to  the  eye  whether 
of  the  body  or  the  spirit  (as  on  the  road  to  Damascus), 
the  Apostle  addressed  the  threefold  supplication,  "  Let 
this  depart  from  me,"  and  the  answer,  in  like  manner, 
to  the  ear  of  the  body  or  spirit,  was  direct  —  "  My  grace 
is  sufficient  for  thee."  So  is  it  in  the  Litany.  Those 
who  wrote  it,  and  we  who  use  it,  stand  for  the  moment 
in  the  pLice  of  Stephen  and  Paul.  We  knock,  as  it  were, 
more  earnestly  at  the  gates  of  heaven  —  we  "  thrice  be- 
seech the  Lord  "  —  and  the  veil  is  for  a  moment  with- 
drawn, and  the  Son  of  Man  is  there  standing  to  receive 
our  prayer.  In  that  rude  time,  when  the  Litany  was 
first  introduced,  they  who  used  it  would  fain  have  drawn 
back  the  veil  further  still.  It  was  in  the  Litanies  of  the 
Middle  Ages  that  we  first  find  the  invocations  not  only 
of  Christ  our  Saviour,  but  of  those  earthly  saints  who 
have  departed  with  Him  into  that  other  world.  These 
the  Protestant  Churches  have  now  ceased  to  address. 
But  the  feeling  which  induced  men  to  call  upon  them  is 
the  same  in  kind  as  that  which  runs  through  this  whole 


Chap.  XII.]  ITS   FORM.  269 

exceptional  service  :  namely,  the  endeavor,  under  the 
pressure  of  strong  emotion  and  heavy  calamity,  to  bring 
ourselves  more  nearly  into  the  presence  of  the  Invisible. 
Christ  and  the  saints  at  such  times  seemed  to  come  out 
like  stars,  which  in  the  daylight  cannot  be  seen,  but  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night  are  visible.  The  saints,  like 
falling  stars  or  passing  meteors,  liave  again  receded  into 
the  darkness.  Christians  by  inci'eased  reflection  have 
been  brought  to  feel  that  of  them  and  of  their  state  not 
enough  is  known  to  justify  this  invocation  of  their  help. 
But  Christ,  the  Lord  and  King  of  the  saints,  still  re- 
mains —  the  Bright  and  Morning  Star,  more  visible  than 
all  the  rest,  more  bright  and  more  cheering,  as  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  becomes  deeper,  as  the  cold  becomes 
more  and  more  chill. 

We  justly  acquiesce  in  the  practice  which  has  excluded 
those  lesser  mediators.  But  this  one  remarkable  excep- 
tion of  the  Litany  in  favor  of  addressing  our  prayers  to 
the  one  Great  Mediator  may  be  permitted,  if  we  remem- 
ber that  it  is  an  exception,  and  if  we  understand  the 
grounds  on  which  it  is  made.  In  the  rest  of  the  Prayer 
Book  we  follow  the  ancient  rule  and  our  Master's  own 
express  command,  by  addressing  the  Father  only.  Here 
iu  the  Litany,  when  we  express  our  most  urgent  needs, 
it  may  be  allowed  to  us  to  deviate  from  that  general  rule, 
and  invite  the  aid  of  Jesus  Christ,  at  once  the  Son  of  Man 
and  Son  of  God. 

Such  being  the  case,  two  important  results  are  involved 
in  this  form  of  the  Litany. 

1.  If,  on  this  solemn  occasion,  we  can  thus  leave  for 
a  moment  the  prescribed  order  of  devotion,  and,  with 
Stephen  and  Paul,  address  to  Christ  the  pi'ayers  which 
we  usually  address  to  the  Father,  it  implies  a  unity  be- 
tween the  Father  and  the  Son  which  is  sometimes  over- 
looked. Often  we  read  statements  which  seem  to  speak 
of  the  Father  and  the  Son  as  if  they  were  two  rival  di- 


270  THE   LITANY.  [Chap.  XII. 

vinities,  the  one  all  justice,  the  other  all  love;  the  one 
bent  on  destroying  guilty  sinners,  the  other  striving  to 
appease  the  Father's  wrath  ;  the  one  judging  and  forgiv- 
ing, the  other  suffering  and  pleading.  Such  is  the  im- 
pression we  many  of  us  receive  from  some  expressions  in 
Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost,"  and  in  Protestant  and  Roman 
Catholic  divines,  and  from  many  well-known  hymns.  It 
is  the  reverse  of  this  impression  that  we  receive  from 
the  Litany.  It  is  not  the  wrath  of  the  Father,  but  the 
wrath  of  Christ  from  which  in  the  Litany  we  pray  to  be 
delivered.  It  is  the  goodness  and  forgiveness,  not  of  the 
Father,  but  of  Christ,  that  we  entreat  for  our  sins.  The 
mind  and  purpose  of  God  is  made  known  to  us  through 
the  mind  and  purpose  of  Christ.  We  feel  this  truth  no- 
where more  keenly  than  in  the  trials  and  sorrows  of  life  ; 
and  we  therefore  express  it  nowhere  more  strongly  than 
in  the  Litany. 

2.  Again,  the  Litany  sets  before  us  in  its  true  aspect 
the  meaning  of  Redemption.  What  is  Redemption  ?  It 
is,  in  one  word,  deliverance.  We  are  in  bondage  to  evil 
habits,  in  bondage  to  fear,  in  bondage  to  ignorance,  in 
bondage  to  superstition,  in  bondage  to  sin  :  what  we  need 
is  freedom  and  liberty.  That  is  what  we  ask  for  every 
time  we  repeat  the  Litany  :  "  Good  Lord,  set  us  free." 
Libera  nos^  Domine. 

Deliverance  —  how,  or  by  what  means  ?  By  one  part 
of  Christ's  appearance  ?  by  one  part  of  Christianity  ?  by 
a  single  doctrine  or  a  single  fact  ?  Bj'  all  —  by  the  whole. 
Not  by  His  sufferings  only  —  not  by  His  death  only  — 
not  by  His  teaching  only  ;  but  "  by  the  mystery  of  His 
holy  incarnation  —  by  His  baptism  —  by  His  fasting  — 
by  His  temptation  —  by  His  agony  and  bloody  sweat  — 
by  His  precious  death  and  burial  —  by  His  glorious  res- 
urrection and  ascension,  and  by  the  cominj:  of  the  Holy 
Ghost."  This  wide  meaning  of  the  mode  of  Redemption 
was  a  truth  sufficiently  appreciated  in  the  early  ages  of 


Chap.  XII.]  ITS    FORM.  271 

the  Church  ;  and  then  it  was  piece  by  piece  divided  and 
subdivided,  till  the  whole  effect  was  altered  and  spoiled. 
Let  us  go  back  once  moi*e  in  the  Litany  to  the  complex  yet 
simple  whole.     Let  us  beUeve  more  nearly  as  we  pray. 

The  particular  forms  used  may  be  open  to  objection. 
We  might  wish  that  some  of  the  features  had  been  omit- 
ted, or  that  other  features  had  been  added.  But  there 
remains  the  general  truth  —  tliat  it  is  by  the  whole  life 
and  appearance  of  Christ  we  hope  to  be  delivered. 

Deliverance  from  what  ?  From  what  is  it  that  we  ask 
to  be  ransomed,  redeemed,  delivered  ?  This  also  was 
well  understood  in  the  early  Church,  though  sometimes 
expressed  in  strange  language.  It  was,  as  they  then  put 
it,  "  deliverance  from  the  power  of  the  devil  "  —  deliver- 
ance from  that  control  over  the  world  which  was  in  those 
days  supposed  to  be  possessed  by  the  Evil  Spirit.  This 
belief,  in  form,  has  passed  away.  We  do  not  now  see 
demons  lurking  in  every  corner.  But  the  substance  of 
the  belief  remains.  We  pi'ay  in  the  Litany  for  deliver- 
ance from  evil  in  all  its  forms  ;  from  evil,  moral  and 
physical ;  from  the  evil  in  our  own  hearts ;  from  the  evil 
brought  on  the  world  by  the  niisgovernment,  and  anarchy, 
and  wild  passions  of  mankind  ;•  from  the  evils  of  sickness 
and  war  and  tempest ;  from  the  trials  of  tribulation  and 
from  the  trials  of  wealth  ;  —  from  all  these  it  is  that  we 
ask  for  deliverance.  Each  petition  places  before  us  some 
of  the  real  evils  in  life  which  keep  us  in  bondage.  In 
proportion  as  we  get  rid  of  them  we  share  in  Christ's  re- 
demption. This  is  the  object  of  the  most  earnest  sup- 
plications of  the  Church ;  because  it  is  the  object  of 
Christianity  itself  ;  because  it  is  the  purpose  for  which 
Christ  came  into  the  world  ;  because,  if  He  delivers  us 
not  from  these.  He  delivers  us  from  nothing ;  because,  so 
far  as  He  delivers  us  from  these.  He  has  accomplished 
the  work  which  He  was  sent  to  do.  Let  us  act  and  think 
more  nearly  as  we  pray. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   KOMAN   CATACOMBS. 

The  belief  of  the  eai-ly  Christians,  that  is,  of  the  Chris- 
tians from  the  close  of  the  first  century  to  the  conversion 
of  the  Empire  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth,  is  a  question 
which  is  at  once  more  difficult  and  more  easy  to  answer 
than  we  might  have  thought  beforehand. 

It  is  in  one  sense  extremely  difficult. 

The  popular,  the  actual  belief  of  a  generation  or  society 
of  men  cannot  always  be  ascertained  from  the  contem- 
porary wi'iters,  who  belong  for  the  most  part  to  another 
stratum.  The  belief  of  the  people  of  England  at  this 
moment  is  something  separate  from  tlie  books,  the  news- 
papers, the  watchwords  of  parties.  It  is  in  the  air.  It 
is  in  their  intimate  conversation.  We  must  hear,  espe- 
cially in  the  case  of  the  simple  and  unlearned,  what  they 
talk  of  to  each  other.  We  must  sit  by  their  bedsides ; 
get  at  what  gives  them  most  consolation,  what  most  oc- 
cupies their  last  moments.  This,  whatever  it  be,  is  the 
belief  of  the  people,  right  or  wrong — ^^this,  and  this  only, 
is  their  real  religion.  A  celebrated  Roman  Catholic 
divine  of  the  present  day  has  described,  in  a  few  short 
sentences,  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  religious  creed  of 
the  people  of  England  :  —  that  it  consists  of  a  general  be- 
lief in  Providence  and  in  a  future  life.  He  is  probably 
right.  But  it  is  something  quite  apart  from  any  formal 
creeds  or  confessions  or  watchwords  which  exist.  Is  it 
possible  to  ascertain  this  concerning  the  early  Christians'? 
The  books  of  that  period  are  few  and  far  between,  and 


Chap.  XIII.]  THEIR   STRUCTURE.  273 

these  books  are,  for  the  most  part,  the  works  of  learned 
scholars  rather  than  of  popular  writers.  Can  we  apart 
from  such  books  discover  what  was  their  most  ready  and 
constant  representation  of  their  dearest  hopes  here  and 
hereafter  ?  Strange  to  say,  after  all  this  lapse  of  time  it 
is  possible.  The  answer,  at  any  rate,  for  that  large  mass 
of  Christians  from  all  parts  of  the  empire  that  was  col- 
lected in  the  capital,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Roman  Cata- 
combs. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  upon  the  formation  of  the 
Catacombs.  For  a  general  view  it  may  be  sufficient  to 
refer  to  "  On  Pagan  and  Christian  Sepulture,"  Thecata- 
in  the  "  Essays  "  of  Dean  Milman.  For  the  '=°°^'''- 
details  of  the  question  it  is  more  than  sufficient  to  refer 
to  the  great  work  of  Commendatore  De  Rossi.  It  has 
been  amply  proved  by  the  investigations  of  the  last  two 
hundred,  and  especially  of  the  last  thirty  years,  that  there 
were  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  from  the  first  be- 
gining  of  the  settlement  of  the  Jews  in  the  city,  large 
galleries  dug  in  the  rock,  which  they  used  for  their  places 
of  burial.  The  Christians,  following  the  example  of  the 
Jews,  did  the  same  on  a  larger  scale.  In  these  galleries 
they  wi'ote  on  the  graves  of  their  friends  the  thoughts 
that  were  most  consoling  to  themselves,  or  painted  on 
the  walls  the  figures  which  gave  them  most  pleasure.  By 
a  singular  chance  these  memorials  have  been  preserved  to 
us  by  the  very  causes  which  have  destroyed  so  much  be- 
side. The  Catacombs  were  deserted  at  the  time  of  the 
invasion  of  the  barbarians,  and  filled  up  with  ruins  and 
rubbish  ;  and  from  the  sixth  to  the  seventeenth  century 
no  one  thought  it  worth  while  to  explore  them.  The 
burial  of  Christian  antiquity  was  as  complete  as  that  of 
Pagan  antiquity,  and  the  resurrection  of  both  took  place 
nearly  at  the  same  time.  The  desertion,  the  overthrow 
of  these  ancient  galleries,  has  been  to  the  Christian  life 

18 


274  THE   ROMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

of  that  time  what  the  overthrow  of  Pompeii  by  the  ashes 
of  Vesuvius  was  to  the  Pagan  life  of  the  period  imme- 
diately antecedent.  The  Catacombs  are  the  Pompeii  of 
early  Christianity,  It  is  much  to  the  credit  of  the  au- 
thorities of  the  Roman  States  that  at  the  time  when  the 
excavations  began  they  allowed  these  monuments  to 
speak  for  themselves.  Many  questionable  interpretations 
have  been  put  upon  them,  but  in  no  respect  has  there 
been  substantiated  any  chai'ge  of  wilful  falsification. 

We  confine  ourselves  to  the  simple  statement  of  the 
testimony  which  they  render  to  the  belief  of  the  second 
and  third  centuries.  For  this  reason,  we  exclude  from 
consideration  almost,  if  not  altogether,  those  subsequent 
to  the  age  of  Constantino.  We  merely  state  the  facts  as 
they  occur ;  and  if  the  results  be  pleasing  or  displeasing 
to  the  members  of  this  or  that  school  of  modern  relig- 
ious opinion,  perhaps  it  will  be  a  sufficient  safeguard  that 
they  will  be  almost  equally  pleasing  or  displeasing  to  the 
members  of  all  such  schools  equally. 

I.  First,  wliat  do  we  learn  of  the  state  of  feeling  indi- 
cated in  the  very  structure  of  the  Catacombs  beyond 
what  any  books  could  teach  us  ? 

The  Catacombs  are  the  standing  monuments  of  the 
Oriental  and  Jewish  character  even  of  Western  Chris- 
Their  Jewish  tianity.  The  fact  that  they  are  the  counterparts 
character.  q£  ^Y\e  rock-hcwu  touibs  of  Palestine,  and  yet 
more  closely  of  the  Jewish  cemeteries  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Rome,  corresponds  to  the  fact  that  the  early  Roman 
Church  was  not  a  Latin  but  an  Eastern  community, 
speaking  Greek,  and  following  the  usages  of  Syria.  And 
again,  the  ease  with  which  the  Roman  Christians  had  re- 
course to  these  cemeteries  is  an  indication  of  the  impar- 
Thetoiera-  tiality  of  the  Roman  law,  which  extended  (as 
^°rVc£fs-  ^^  Rossi  has  well  pointed  out)  to  this  despised 
tians.  ggjji-  ^jjg  same  protection   in  respect  to  burial, 

even  during  the  times  of  persecution,  that  was  accorded 


Chap.  XIII.]  THEIR   PAINTINGS.  275 

to  the  highest  in  the  land.  They  thus  bear  witness  to 
the  unconscious  fostering  care  of  the  Imperial  Government 
over  the  infant  Church.  They  are  thus  monuments,  not 
so  much  of  the  persecution  as  of  the  toleration,  which  the 
Christians  received  at  the  hands  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

These  two  circumstances,  confirmed  as  they  are  from 
various  quarters,  are,  as  it  were,  the  framework  in  which 
the  ideas  of  the  Church  of  the  Catacombs  are  enshrined, 
and  yet  they  are  quite  unknown  to  the  common  ecclesi- 
astical histories. 

3.  A  similar  profound  ignorance  shrouded  the  existence 
of  the  Catacombs  themselves.  There  are  no  allusions  to 
the  Catacombs  in  Gibbon,  or  Mosheim,  or  Neander  ;  nor, 
in  fact,  in  any  ecclesiastical  history,  down  to  the  close  of 
the  first  quarter  of  this  century.  Dean  Milman's  "  His- 
tory of  Christianity "  was  the  earliest  exception.  Nor 
again  is  there  any  allusion  in  the  Fathers  to  their  most 
striking  characteristics.  St.  Jerome's  nari-ative  of  beint; 
taken  into  them  as  a  child  is  simply  a  description  of  the 
horror  they  inspired.  Prudentius  has  a  passing  allusion 
to  the  paintings,  but  nothing  that  gives  a  notion  of  their 
extent  and  importance. 

II.  We  now  proceed  to  the  beliefs  themselves,  as  pre- 
sented in  the  pictures  or  inscriptions,  confining  ourselves 
as  much  as  possible  to  those  which  are  earliest 

■•^    .  .  The  pictures. 

and  most  universal.  But  before  entering  on 
these,  let  us  glance  for  a  moment  at  those  which,  though 
belonging  to  the  latest  years  of  this  period  —  the  close  of 
the  third  century  —  yet  still  illustrate  the  general  charac- 
ter even  of  the  earlier.  The  subjects  of  these  paintings 
are  for  the  most  part  taken  from  the  Bible,  and  are  as 
follows  :  In  the  New  Testament  they  are  the  Adoration 
of  the  Magi,  the  Feeding  of  the  Disciples,  Zacchseus  in 
the  Sycamore,  the  Healing  of  the  Paralytic,  the  Raising 
of  Lazarus,  the  Washing   of   Pilate's    Hands,^    Peter's 

1  Tertullian  ( On  the  Lord's  Prayer,  c.  13)  censures  strongly  the  practice  of 


276  THE   KOMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIll 

Denial,  the  Seizure  of  Peter  by  the  Jews.  In  the  Old 
Testament  thej'  are  the  Creation,  the  Sacrifice  of  Isaac, 
the  Stag  desiring  the  Water  Brooks,  the  Striking  of  the 
Rock,  Jonah  and  the  Whale,  Jonah  under  the  Gourd, 
Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den,  the  Three  Children  in  the 
Fire,  Susanna  and  the  Elders. 

On  this  selection  we  will  make  three  general  remarks. 
1.  Whilst  it  does  not  coincide  with  the  theology  and  the 
art  of  the  modern  Western  Church,  it  coincides  to  a  cer- 
tain degree  with  the  selection  that  we  find  in  the  Eastern 
Continuance  Cliurch.  The  Raising  of  Lazarus,  for  example, 
ern,  neglect  fell  Completely  out  of  the  range  of  the  Italian 
em  Church,  paiutcrs  and  out  of  the  scholastic  tlieology  of 
the  Middle  Ages ;  but  it  may  still  be  traced  in  the  By- 
zantine traditions  as  preserved  in  Russia.  In  one  of  the 
most  ancient  chapels  of  the  Kremlin  there  is  a  represen- 
tation of  the  mummy-like  form  of  Lazarus  issuing  from 
his  tomb,  exactly  similar  to  that  which  appears  in  the 
Roman  Catacombs.  The  Three  Children,  who  cease  to 
occupy  any  important  place  in  the  Latin  Church,  are  re- 
peatedly brought  forward  in  the  Eastern  Church.  Three 
choristers  stand  in  front  of  the  altar  at  a  particular  part 
of  the  service  to  represent  them,  and  the  only  attempt  at 
a  mj'stery  or  miracle  play  in  the  Middle  Ages  of  Russia 
was  the  erection  of  a  large  wooden  platform  with  the 
painted  appearance  of  fire  underneath,  on  which  three 
actors  stood  forth  and  played  by  gesture  and  song  the 
part  of  the  Three  Children. 

2.  Secondly,  the  mere  fact  of  paintings  at  all  in  these 
Contradic-  early  chapels  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  the 
thToiogicai  general  condemnation  of  any  painting  of  sacred 
writers.         subjects  iu  the  writers  ^  of  the  first  centuries. 

washing  hands  before  prayer,  and  says  that  on  inquiry  he  found  it  was  in  im- 
itation of  Pihitu's  act. 

1  See  the  summary  of  opinions  of  the  Fathers  on  art  in  the  English  tran.sla. 
tion  of  Tertuliian  in  the  Library  of  the  Fathers.  (Notes  to  the  Apology,  vol. 
ii.  p.  HO.) 


Chap.  XIII.]  THEIR   PAINTINGS.  277 

It  is  as  if  the  po^^nlar  sentiment  bad  not  only  run  coun- 
ter to  the  written  theology,  but  had  been  actually  igno- 
rant of  it. 

3.  Thirdly,  the  selection  of  these  subjects,  whether  in 
the  Eastern  or  in  the  Western  Church,  is  quite  out  of 
proportion  to  the  choice  of  these  same  subjects  Absence  of 
in  the  books  of  the  time  that  have  come  down  jJooksof'the 
to  us.  Few  of  them  are  consjDicuously  present  ''""^ 
in  the  writers  of  the  three  first,  or  indeed  of  the  sixtd-n 
first  centuries  ;  and  of  one  of  them,  at  least,  the  arrest  of 
Peter  by  the  Jewish  soldiers,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  there  is  no  incident  record  in  any  extant  books  to 
which  it  can  with  certainty  be  applied  at  all. 

These  points  do  not  illustrate  any  contradiction  to 
the  existing  opinions  either  of  Protestant  or  Catholic 
Churches  in  modern  times.  The  subject  to  which  these 
paintings  relate  for  the  most  part  do  not  involve,  even  by 
remote  implication,  any  of  these  disputed  opinions.  But 
they  indicate  a  difference  deeper  than  any  mere  expres- 
sion of  particular  doctrines.  They  show  that  the  current 
of  early  Christian  thought  ran  in  an  altogether  differ- 
ent channel,  both  from  the  contemporary  writers  of  the 
early  period,  and  also  both  from  the  paintings  and  the 
writings  of  the  later  period.  In  the  collection  of  the 
works  of  the  Fathers  of  th^  second  and  third  centuries, 
it  is  difficult  to  find  allusion  to  any  one  of  these  topics. 
Of  the  paintings  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries  re- 
cently discovered  in  the  subterranean  church  of  St. 
Clement  at  Rome,  not  one  of  all  the  numerous  series  is 
identical  with  those  in  the  Catacombs. 

III.  But  this  peculiarity  of  the  Catacombs  thus  visible 
to  a  certain  extent,  even  in  the  third  century,  appears 
still  more  forcibly  when  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  ear- 
liest cliambers,  and  to  the  most  important  figures  which 
they  contain. 


278  THE   EOJIAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIH. 

There  is  one  such  chamber  especially,  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  Commendatore  De  Rossi,  is  the  earliest  that 
can  be  found,  reaching  back  to  the  beginning  of  the 
second  century.  It  is  that  commonly  known  as  the 
Catacomb  of  Sts.  Nereus  and  Achilleus,  otherwise  of  St. 
Domitilla. 

In  this  chamber  there  are  three  general  characteris- 
tics :  — 

1.  Everything  is  cheerful  and  joyous.  This,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  pervades  all  the  Catacombs.  Although  some 
Cheerful-  ^^  them  must  have  been  made  in  times  of  per- 
^^^^'  secution,    yet   even    in    these    the    nearest   ap- 

proach to  such  images  of  distress  and  suffering  is  in  the 
figures  before  noticed —  (and  these  are  not  found  in  the 
earliest  stage) — the  Three  Children  in  the  Fire,  Daniel 
in  the  Lions'  Den,  and  Jonah  naked  under  the  Gourd. 
Biit  of  the  mournful  emblems  which  belong  to  nearly  all 
the  later  ages  of  Christianity,  almost  all  are  wonting  in 
almost  all  the  Catacombs.  There  is  neither  the  cross  of 
the  fifth  or  sixth  century,  nor  the  crucifix  or  the  cruci- 
fixion of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth,  nor  the  tortures  and 
martyrdoms  of  the  seventeenth,  nor  the  skeletons  of  the 
fifteenth,  nor  the  cypresses  and  death's  heads  of  the 
eighteenth.  There  are,  instead,  wreaths  of  I'oses,  winged 
genii,  children  playing.  This  is  the  general  ornamenta- 
tion. It  is  a  variation  not  noticed  in  ordinary  ecclesias- 
tical history.  But  it  is  there.  There  are  two  words  used 
in  the  very  earliest  account  of  the  very  earliest  Christian 
community  to  which  the  English  language  furnishes  no 
exact  equivalent ;  one  is  their  exulting  bounding  glad- 
ness (ayaAAiao-ts)  ;  the  Other,  their  simplicity  and  smooth- 
ness of  feeling,  as  of  a  plain  without  stones,  of  a  field 
without  furrows  (d^eAorr^s).  These  two  words  from  the 
records  of  the  first  century  ^  represent  to  us  what  ap- 
1  Acts  ii.  46. 


Chap.  XIII.]  HEATHEN   SUBJECTS.  279 

pears  in  the  second  century  in  the  Roman  Catacombs. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  they  have  ever  been  equally 
rej)resented  at  any  subsequent  age. 

2.  Connected  with  this  fact  is  another.  It  is  aston- 
ishing how  many  of  these  decorations  are  taken  from 
heathen  sources  and  copied  from  heathen  paint-  neathen 
ings.  There  is  Orpheus  playing  on  his  harp  to  ^"^J^'^'^- 
the  beasts  ;  there  is  Bacchus  as  the  God  of  the  vintage ; 
there  is  Psyche,  the  butterfly  of  the  soul ;  there  is  the 
Jordan  as  the  God  of  the  river.  The  Classical  and  the 
Christian,  the  Hebrew  and  the  Hellenic,  elements  had 
not  yet  parted.  The  strict  demarcation  which  the  books 
of  the  period  would  imply  between  the  Christian  Church 
and  the  heathen  Avorld  had  not  yet  been  formed,  or  was 
constantl}^  effaced.  The  Catacombs  have  more  affinity 
with  the  chapel  of  Alexander  Severus,  which  contained 
Orpheus  side  by  side  with  Abraham  and  Christ,  than 
they  have  with  the  writings  of  TertuUian,  who  spoke  of 
heathen  poets  only  to  exult  in  their  future  torments,  or 
of  Augustine,  who  regarded  this  very  figure  of  Orpheus 
only  as  a  mischievous  teacher  to  be  disparaged,  not  as  a 
type  of  the  union  of  the  two  forms  of  heathen  and  Chris- 
tian civilization.  It  agrees  with  the  fact  that  the  funeral 
inscriptions  are  often  addressed  Bis  Manibus,  "  to  the 
funeral  spirits." 

3.  We  see  in  the  earliest  chambers  not  only  the  be- 
ginning, but  in  a  certain  sense  the  end  of  early  Chi-is- 
tian  ai't.  By  the  time  we  reach  the  fourth  cent-  ^^^.^^  ^^^.j^, 
ury  the  figures  are  mishapen,  rude,  and  stiff,  *'^^'^  *'^'' 
partaking  of  that  decadence  which  marks  the  Arch  of 
Constantine,  and  which  is  developed  into  the  forms  after- 
wards called  Byzantine.  But  in  the  second  and  third 
centuries,  in  the  Catacombs  of  St.  Domitilla,  of  St. 
Praetextatus,  and  St.  Priscilla,  there  is  in  the  sweetness 
of  the  countenance,  the  depths  of  the  eyes,  the  grace  and 


280  THE   ROMAN  CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

majesty  of  the  forms,  an  insj^iration  of  a  higher  source, 
it  may  be  partly  from  the  contact  with  the  still  living 
ai"t  of  Greece,  it  may  be  from  the  contact  with  a  purer 
and  higher  flame  of  devotion  not  yet  burnt  out  in  fierce 
controversy. 

There  is  a  figure  which  occurs  constantly  in  the  Cata- 
combs, and  which  in  those  earliest  of  all  has  a  peculiar 
grace  of  its  own  —  that  of  the  dead  person  represented 
in  the  peculiar  position  of  prayer,  which  has  now  en- 
tirely ceased  in  all  Christian  churches,  but  as  it  may 
still  now  and  then  be  seen  in  Mahometan  countries  — 
the  attitude  of  standing  with  the  hands  stretched  out  to 
receive  the  gifts  which  Heaven  would  pour  into  them. 
Such  are  the  figures  of  the  "  Oranti,"  as  they  are  techni- 
cally called,  in  the  Catacombs,  men  or  women,  according 
to  the  sex  of  the  departed.  Such  also  were  the  holy 
hands  and  upturned  eyes  of  the  worshippers  in  the 
heathen  temples  of  Greece  or  Rome.  The  most  perfect 
representation  of  this  in  Christian  art  is,  perhaps,  that  of 
the  departed  Christian  in  the  Catacomb  of  St.  Priscilla. 
The  most  perfect  representation  of  this  in  heathen  art  is, 
perhaps,  that  of  the  bronze  figure  of  an  adoring  youth, 
found  in  the  Rhine,  of  this  same  period  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  now  in  the  Museum  at  Berlin.  An  ani- 
mated description  which  has  been  given  of  this  statue  in 
a  recent  work  devoted  to  Greek  art,  might,  with  a  few 
changes  of  expression,  be  applied  to  the  painting  of  the 
departed  Christian  in  the  Catacomb  of  St.  Priscilla. 
"  His  eyes  and  arms  are  raised  to  heaven  ;  perfect  in  hu- 
manity beneath  the  lightsome  vault  of  heaven,  he  stands 
and  praj^s  —  no  adoration  with  veiled  eyes  and  mutter- 
ing lips  —  no  prostration,  with  the  putting  off  of  sandals 
on  holy  ground  —  no  genuflexion,  like  the  bending  of  a 
reed  waving  with  the  wind,  — but  such  as  lamus  in  the 
mid   waves   of   Alpheius   might   have   prayed  when  he 


Chap.  XIII.]  THE  GOOD   SHEPHERD.  281 

heard  the  voice  of  Phoebus  calling  to  him,  and  promising 
to  him  the  twofold  gift  of  prophecy.'" 

Such  is  the  ideal  of  the  worshipping  youth  of  a  Pagan 
temple  of  that  period  —  such  is  the  transfigured  ideal  of 
the  worshipping  maiden  or  matron  in  the  Christian  Cata- 
comb. Such  has  not  been  the  ideal  of  worship  in  any 
later  age  of  the  Church. 

IV.  But  the  question  might  here  be  asked,  if  these  sa- 
cred decorations  are  so  like  what  we  find  in  heathen  tombs 
or  houses,  how  do  we  know  that  we  are  in  a  Christian 
burial-place  at  all  ?  What  is  the  sign  that  we  are  here  in 
the  chamber  of  a  Christian  family  ?  What  is  the  test, 
what  is  the  watchword,  by  which  these  early  Christians 
were  known  from  those  who  were  not  Christians  ? 

We  have  already  indicated  some  of  the  Biblical  sub- 
jects ;  we  also  know  well  what  we  should  find  in  the  vari- 
ous later  churches,  whether  Greek,  Latin,  Anglican,  Lu- 
theran, or  Nonconformist.  Some  distinctive  emblems  we 
should  find  everywhere,  either  in  books,  pictures,  or  stat- 
ues. But  none  of  these  were  in  the  Catacombs  even  of 
the  third  century  :  and  in  the  Catacombs  of  the  second 
century,  not  even  those  which  are  found  in  the  third  and 
fourth  centuries. 

1.  What,  then,  is  the  test  or  sign  of  Christian  popular 
belief  that  in  these  earliest  representations  of  Christianity 
is  handed  down  to  us  as  the  most  cherished,  the  ^j^^  ^^^^ 
all-sufficing  token  of  their  creed  ?  It  is  very  ^'i''p'"^'"<i- 
simple,  but  it  contains  a  great  deal.  It  is  a  shepherd  in 
the  bloom  of  youth,  with  a  crook  or  a  shepherd's  pipe  in 
one  hand,  and  on  his  shoulder  a  lamb,  which  he  carefully 
carries  and  holds  with  the  other  hand.  We  see  at  once 
who  it  is  ;  we  all  know  without  being  told.  There  are 
two  passages  in  two  of  the  sacred  books,  which,  whatever 
may  be  the  critical  discussion  about  their  dates,  must  be 
inferred  from  these  paintings  to  have  been  by  that  time 


282  THE   ROMAN    CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

firmly  rooted  in  the  popular  belief  of  the  community. 
One  is  that  from  the  Tliird  Gospel,  which  speaks  of  the 
shepherd  going  over  the  hills  of  Palestine  to  seek  the 
sheep  that  was  lost ;  the  other,  that  from  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  which  says,  "  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,"  or,  as 
perhaps  we  might  venture  to  translate  it,  "  I  am  the 
Beautiful  Shepherd."  This,  in  that  earliest  chamber  or 
church  of  a  Christian  family  of  which  we  are  chiefly 
speaking,  is  the  one  sign  of  Christian  life  and  of  Chris- 
tian belief.  But  as  it  is  the  only,  or  almost  the  only,  sign 
of  Christian  belief  in  this  earliest  Catacomb,  so  it  con- 
tinues (with  those  other  pictures  of  whicli  we  have 
spoken)  always  the  chief,  alwaj^s  the  prevailing,  sign  as 
long  as  those  burial-places  were  used.  Sometimes  it  is 
with  one  sheep,  sometimes  with  several  sheep  in  various 
attitudes  ;  some  listening  to  his  voice,  some  turning  away. 
Sometimes  it  appears  in  chapels,  sometimes  on  the  tombs 
themselves  ;  sometimes  on  the  tombs  of  the  humblest  and 
poorest;  sometimes  in  the  sepulchres  of  Emperors  and 
Empresses  —  Galla  Placidia  and  Honorius  —  but  always 
the  chief  mark  of  the  Christian  life  and  faith. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  no  allusion  to  the  Good 
Shepherd  (with  one  exception)  in  the  writers  of  the 
second  century,  and  very  few  in  the  third  ;  hardly  any  in 
Athanasius  ^  or  in  Jerome.  If  we  come  down  much  later, 
there  is  hardly  any  in  the  "  Summa  Theologire "  of 
Thomas  Aquinas,  none  in  the  Tridentine  Catechism, 
none  in  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  none  in  the  Westmin- 
ster Confession.  The  only  prominent  allusions  we  find 
to    this   figure  in  the  writers  of  early  times  are  drawn 

1  Origen  {Uom  v.  on  Jeremiah  jii.,  152)  has  a  somewhat  detailed  reference. 
His  other  anusions  are  of  the  most  perfunctory  kind.  So  also  Cvprian  (Clem. 
Alex.  P(td.  i.  7,  9;  Strom,  i.  2G),  has  similar  slight  references.  There  is  notli- 
ing  in  Irenjcns  or  Justin,  and  only  three  passing  notices  in  Tertullian  {De  Pati- 
entia,  c.  12;  De  Pwlicitid,  c.  9,  IG).  A  more  distinct  reference  is  in  the  Acts  of 
Perpetua  and  Felicitas. 


Chap.  XIII.]  THE   GOOD    SHEPHERD.  283 

from  that  same  under-current  of  Christian  society  to 
which  the  Catacombs  themselves  belong.  One  is  the 
allusion,  in  an  angry  complaint  of  Tertullian,^  to  the 
chalices  used  in  the  Communion,  on  which  the  Good 
Shepherd  was  a  frequent  subject ;  the  other  is  in  the  once 
popular  book  of  devotion,  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  of 
the  Church  of  the  second  century,  which  was  spread  far 
and  wide  from  Italy  even  to  Greece,  Egyj^t,  and  Abys- 
sinia, namely,  the  once  universal,  once  canonical,  once 
inspired,  now  forgotten  and  disparaged,  but  always  cu- 
rious book  called  the  "  Shepherd  of  Hernias." 

This  disproportion  between  the  almost  total  absence  of 
this  figure  in  the  works  of  the  learned,  and  its  predomi- 
nant prevalence  where  we  most  surely  touch  the  hearts 
and  thoughts  of  the  first  Christians  —  this  gives  the  an- 
swer to  the  question,  —  What  was  the  popular  Religion 
of  the  first  Christians  ?  It  was,  in  one  word,  the  Relig- 
ion of  the  Good  Shepherd.  The  kindness,  the  courage, 
the  grace,  the  love,  the  beauty,  of  the  Good  Shepherd 
was  to  them,  if  we  may  so  say,  Prayer  Book  and  Articles, 
Creed  and  Canons,  all  in  one.  They  looked  on  that  fig- 
ure, and  it  conve^^ed  to  them  all  that  they  wanted.  As 
ages  passed  on,  the  Good  Shepherd  faded  away  from  the 
mind  of  the  Christian  world,  and  other  emblems  of  the 
Christian  faith  have  taken  his  place.  Instead  of  the  gra- 
cious and  gentle  Pastor,  there  came  the  Omnipotent  Judge 
or  the  Crucified  Sufferer,  or  the  Infant  in  His  Mother's 
arms,  or  the  Master  in  His  Parting  Supper,  or  the  figures 
of  innumerable  saints  and  angels,  or  the  elaborate  exposi- 
tions of  the  various  forms  of  theological  controversy. 

These  changes  may  have  been  inevitable.  Christianity 
is  too  vast  and  complex  to  be  confined  to  the  expressions 

1  "  As  this  is  a  singular  instance  only  of  a  sjmibolical  representation  or  em- 
blerfi,  so  it  is  the  only  instance  Petavins  pretends  to  find  in  all  the  three  first 
ages."  (Bingham,  viii.  8.)  So  Bingham  and  Petavius  thought.  They  little 
knew  that  the  Good  Shepherd  was  the  constant  Christian  emblem. 


284  THE   ROMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

of  any  single  age,  or  of  any  single  nation,  and  what  was 
suitable  for  one  age  may  become  unsuited  for  another. 
Still,  it  is  useful  for  us  to  go  back  to  this  its  eai-liest  form, 
and  ask  what  must  have  been  the  ideas  suggested  by  it. 

(a.)   It  was  an  instance  of  that  general  connection  just 

now  noticed  between  the  new  Christian  belief  and  the 

old  Pagan  world.     A  figure  not  unlike  the  Good 

Connection       ^  i         i     i       i  • 

withhea-       felieplierd  had  from  time  to  time  appeared  in 

then  belief.  -^  .  .  ^  ■*- 

the  Grecian  worship.  There  was  the  Hermes 
Kriophorus  —  Mercury  with  the  ram  —  as  described  by 
Pausanias.  There  were  also  the  figures  of  dancing  shep- 
herds in  the  tombs  of  the  Nasones  near  Rome.  In  one  in- 
stance, in  the  Christian  Catacombs,  the  Good  Shepherd 
appears  surrounded  by  the  Three  Graces. ^  In  the  tomb 
of  Galla  Placidia,  He  might  well  be  the  youthful  Apollo 
playing  with  his  pipes  to  the  flocks  of  Adraetus.  There 
had  not  yet  sprung  up  the  fear  of  taking  as  the  chief 
symbol  of  Christianity  an  idea  or  a  figure  which  would 
be  equally  acknowledged  by  Pagans. 

(J.)  It  represents  to  us  the  joyful,   cheerful    side  of 

Christianity,  of  which  we  spoke  before.     Look  at  that 

beautiful,  g-raceful  fip-ure,  bounding  down  as  if 

Tlie  joyous  .  .  .  . 

aspect  of        from  liis  native  hills,  with  the  happy  sheep  nest- 

Christianity.       .       .  ,  i  •   i  •  • 

ling  on  his  shoulder,  with  the  pastoral  pipes  in 
his  hand,  blooming  in  immortal  youth.  It  is  the  exact 
representation  of  the  Italian  shepherd  as  we  constantly 
encounter  him  on  the  Sabine  hills  at  this  day,  holding  the 
stiay  lamb  on  his  shoulders,  with  a  strong  hand  grasping 
the  twisted  legs  as  they  liang  on  his  breast.  Just  such  a 
one  appears  on  a  fresco  in  the  so-called  house  of  Livia,  on 
the  Palatine.  That  is  the  primitive  conception  of  the 
Founder  of  Christianity.  It  is  the  very  reverse  of  that 
desponding,  foreboding,  wailing  cry  that  we  have  often 
heard  in  later  days,  as  if  His  religion  were  going  to  die 
1  De  Rossi,  ii.  358. 


Chap.  XIII.]  THE   GOOD   SHEPHERD.  285 

out  of  the  world  ;  as  if  He  were  some  dethroned  princa, 
whose  cause  was  to  be  cherished  only  by  the  reactionary, 
losing,  vanquished  parties  of  the  world  or  Church.  The 
popular  conception  of  Him  in  the  early  Church  was  of 
the  strong,  the  joyous  youth,  of  eternal  growth,  of  im- 
mortal grace. 

(c.)  It  represents  to  us  an  aspect  of  the  only  Christian 
belief  that  has  not  been  common  in  later  times,  but  of 
which   we  find  occasional  traces    even   in    the     ,    ,   . 

The  latitude 

writings  of  these  earlier  centuries,  namely,  that  °t^F'7  . 
the  first  object  of  the  Christian  community  was 
not  to  repel,  but  to  include  —  not  to  condemn,  but  to  save. 
In  some  of  the  paintings  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  this 
aspect  of  the  subject  is  emphasised  by  representing  the 
creature  on  his  shoulder  to  be  not  a  lamb,  but  a  kid ;  not 
a  sheep,  but  a  goat. 

It  is  this  which  provokes  the  indignant  remonstrance 
of  Tertullian  in  the  only  passage  of  the  Father  which 
contains  a  distinct  reference  to  the  popular  representa- 
tion of  the  Good  Shepherd  ;  and  it  is  on  this  unchristian 
protest  that  Matthew  Arnold  founds  one  of  his  most 
touching  poems. 

"He  saves  the  sheep  —  the  goats  he  doth  not  save  ; 
So  spake  the  tierce  Tertullian. 

But  she  sigh'd  — 
The  infant  Church !  of  love  she  felt  the  tide 
Stream  on  her  from  her  Lord's  yet  recent  grave, 
And  then  she  smil'd,  and  in  the  Catacombs 
With  e3'e  siiiTused,  but  heart  inspired  true, 
She  her  Good  Shepherd's  hasty  image  drew, 
And  on  his  shoulder  not  a  lamb,  but  kid." 

(c?.)  It  represents  to  us  the  extreme  simplicity  of  this 
early  belief.     It   seems    as    if    that  key-note    was    then 
struck  in  the  popular  Christianity  of  those  first  ThesimpHc- 
ages,  which  has  in  its  best  aspects  made  it  the  ^ariy  chria 
religion  of  little  children  and  guileless  peasants,   '^^"^''y- 
and  also  of  childlike  philosophers  and  patriarchal  sages. 


286  THE   KOMAN    CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

There  is  nothing  here  strange,  diflBcult,  mysterious. 
But  there  was  enough  to  satisfy  the  early  Christian,  to 
nerve  the  sulfering  martyr,  to  console  the  mourner. 
When  Bosio,  the  first  explorer  of  the  Catacombs  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  opened  the  tomb  of  which  we  have 
been  speaking,  he  was  disappointed  when  he  found  only 
the  Good  Shepherd,  and  went  on  to  other  later  cham- 
bers and  chaj)els,  where  there  were  other  more  varied 
pictures,  and  other  more  complicated  emblems.  He  did 
not  know  that  this  one,  which  he  despised  for  its  sim- 
plicity, was  the  most  interesting  of  all,  because  the  ear- 
liest of  all. 

It  is  possible  that  others,  like  Bosio,  have  gone  fartlrer 
and  fared  worse  in  their  dissatisfaction  at  so  simple  a 
representation.  It  is  certain,  as  has  been  said,  that,  till 
quite  modern  times, ^  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  the  ideas 
which  the  figure  suggested,  had  become  as  strange  and 
rare  as  the  doctrines  of  later  times  would  have  seemed 
strange  to  the  dwellers  in  the  Catacombs. 

2.  The  Good  Shepherd,  however,  is  not  the  only 
figure  which  pervades  the  tomb  of  Domitilla.  There  is 
auother  which  also,  in  like  manner,  predominates  else- 
where. 

It  is  a  vine  painted  on  the  roof  and  on  the  walls,  with 
its  branches  spreading  and  twisting  themselves  in  every 
direction,  loaded  with  clusters  of  grapes,  and 
seeming  to  reach  over  the  whole  chamber. 
And  sometimes  this  figure  of  the  Vine  is  the  only  sign 
of  Christian  belief.  In  the  tomb  of  Constantia,  the  sis- 
ter of  the  Emperor  Constantine,  even  the  Good  Shep- 
herd   does   not  appear  ;  the  only   decorations    that    are 

1  It  occurs  in  the  pictures  of  the  French  Ilugiieiiots  of  the  17th  century,  pre- 
served in  the  Protestant  Library  in  the  I'lace  Venduine.  See  also  Kowhuid 
Hill's  use  of  it  in  his  Token  of  Love  {Life  of  Rowland  Hill,  p.  428.)  In  the 
latter  half  of  this  century  it  has  become  popular  in  the  Roman  Church. 


Chap.  XIII.]  .  THE   VINE.  287 

carved  on  her  coffin  unci  painted  on  the  walls  are  chil- 
dren gathering  the  vintage,  plucking  the  grapes,  carry- 
ing baskets  of  grapes  on  their  heads,  danchig  ou  the 
grapes  to  press  out  tlie  wine.  The  period  in  which  the 
figure  of  the  Vine  appears  is  more  restricted  than  that 
in  which  the  figure  of  the  Shepherd  appears.  But  tak- 
ing, again,  the  tomb  of  Domitilla  as  our  main  example, 
it  is  undeniable  that  if  the  chief  thought  of  the  early- 
Christians  was  the  Good  Shepherd,  the  second  was  the 
Vine  and  the  Vintage. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  There  are  three  ideas 
whicb  we  may  suppose  to  have  been  represented. 

(a.)  The  first  is  that  which  we  have  noticed  before  — 
the  joyous  and  festive  character  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tian faith.  In  Eastern  countries  the  vintage  is  j^g  joyous- 
the  great  holiday  of  the  year.  In  the  Jewish.  ^''^'^' 
Church  there  was  no  festival  so  gay  and  so  free  as  the 
Feast  of  Tabernacles,  when  they  gathered  the  fruit  of 
the  vineyard,  and  enjoyed  themselves  in  their  gi-een 
bowers  or  tabernacles. 

Lord  Macaulay  once  described,  with  all  his  force  of  lan- 
guage and  variety  of  illustration,  how  natural  and  beauti- 
ful was  the  origin  of  the  heathen  legend,  which  repre- 
sented the  victorious  march  of  Dionysus,  the  inventor  of 
the  vine,  and  how  every  one  must  have  been  entranced 
at  the  coming  in  of  their  new  guest — the  arrival  of 
the  life-giving  grape  —  scattering  joy  and  merriment 
wherever  he  came.  Something  of  this  kind  seems  to 
have  been  the  sentiment  of  the  early  Christian  com- 
munity. No  doubt  the  monastic  and  the  Puritan  ele- 
ment existed  amongst  them  in  germ,  and  showed  itself  in 
the  writings  even  of  the  second  and  third  centuries  ;  but 
it  is  evident  from  these  paintings  that  it  occupied  a  very 
subordinate  place  in  the  popular  mind  of  the  early  Ro- 
man Christians. 


288  THE   ROMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

It  may  be  that  the  hideous  associations  which  north- 
ern  drunkenness  has  imported  into  these  festive  em- 
blems have  rendered  impossible  to  modern  times  a  sym- 
bol which  in  earlier  days  and  in  southern  countries  was 
still  permissible.  It  may  be  that  after  the  disappoint- 
ments, controversies,  persecutions,  mistakes,  scandals, 
follies  of  Christendom  for  the  last  seventeen  centuries,  it 
is  impossible  to  imagine  that  buoyant  heart,  that  hope- 
ful spirit,  which  then  was  easy  and  natural.  Not  the 
less,  however,  is  it  instructive  for  us  to  see  the  joyous 
gayety,  the  innocent  Bacchanalia,  with  which  our  first 
fathers  started  in  the  dawn  of  that  journey  which  has 
since  been  so  often  overcast. 

(5.)  There  was,  however,  perhaps  a  deeper  thought 
in  this  figure.  When  we  see  the  vine,  with  its  purple 
itsdiffu-  clusters  spreading  itself  over  the  roof  of  the 
*""'■  chamber,    it    is    difficult   not   to    feel  that  the 

early  Christians  had  before  their  minds  the  recollection 
of  the  Parable  of  "  The  Vine  and  the  Branches."  When 
we  remark  the  juice  of  the  grapes  streaming  from  the 
feet  of  those  who  tread  the  wine-press  —  the  figures,  fre- 
quent in  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  represented  in  colossal 
form  over  the  portal  of  the  Jewish  Temple,  carved  still 
on  Jewish  sepulchres — it  is  the  same  image  which  cul- 
minated to  the  Christian  mind  in  that  sacred  apologue. 
It  was  the  account  which  they  gave  to  themselves  and  to 
others  of  the  benefits  of  their  new  religion.  What  they 
valued,  what  the}'^  felt,  was  a  new  moral  influence,  a  new 
life  stealing  through  their  veins,  a  new  health  imparted 
to  their  frames,  a  new  courage  breathing  in  their  faces, 
like  wine  to  a  weary  laborer,  like  sap  in  the  hundred 
branches  of  a  spreading  tree,  like  juice  in  the  thousand 
clusters  of  a  spreading  vine. 

Where  this' life  was,  there  was  the  sign  of  their  relig- 
ion.    By  what  special  channel  it  came,  whether  through 


Chap.  XIII.]  THE   EPITAPHS.  289 

books  or  treatises,  whether  through  bishops  or  presby- 
ters, whether  through  this  doctrine  or  that,  this  the 
paintings  in  the  Catacombs  —  at  least  in  the  earliest 
Catacombs  —  do  not  tell  us.  All  that  we  see  is  the 
Good  Shepherd  on  one  side,  and  the  spreading  Vine  and 
joyous  vintage  on  the  other  side.  It  was  an  influence  as 
subtle,  as  persuasive,  as  difficult  to  fix  into  one  uniform 
groove,  as  what  we  call  the  influence  of  love,  or  mar- 
riage, or  law,  or  civilization. 

(c.)  The  figure  of  the  Vine,  as  seen  in  the  Catacombs, 
suggests  perhaps  one  other  idea  —  the  idea  of  what  was 
then  meant  by  Christian  unity.  The  branches 
of  the  vine  are  infinite  ;  no  other  plant  throws 
out  so  many  ramifications  which  twist  and  clasp  and 
turn  and  hang  and  creep  and  rise  and  fall  in  so  many 
festoons  and  roots  and  clusters  and  branches,  over  trees 
and  houses  ;  sometimes  high,  sometimes  low,  sometimes 
graceful,  sometimes  deformed,  sometimes  straight,  some- 
times crooked.  But  in  all  there  is  the  same  life-giving 
juice,  the  same  delicious  fragrance.  That  is  the  figure 
of  the  Vine  as  we  see  it  in  the  tomb  of  St.  Domitilla. 
It  is  a  likeness —  whether  intended  or  not  —  of  the 
variety  and  unity  of  Christian  goodness. 

V.   There  is  one  other  subject   on  which  we  should 
naturally  expect   in  these  Catacombs  to  learn  some  tid- 
ings of  the  belief  of  the  early  Christians,  and  xheepi- 
that  is  concerning  the  future  life  and  the  de-  ^^^^^' 
parted.     This  we  gather  partly  from  their  paintings,  but 
chiefly  from  their  epitaphs. 

In  these  representations  there  are  three  such  charac- 
teristics, agreeing  with  what  we  have  already  noticed. 

1.  First,  there  is  the  same  simplicity.    If  for  a  moment 
we  look  at  the  paintings  of  this  subject,  in  what  form  are 
the  souls  of  the  dead  presented  to  us  ?    Almost     j^^.^  ^j^, 
always  in  the  form  of  little  birds ;  sometimes  p^'^'^- 

19 


290  THE   ROMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

with  bright,  gay  plumage  —  peacocks,  pheasants,  and  the 
Hke;  more  often  as  doves.  There  was  here,  no  doubt, 
the  childlike  thought,  that  the  soul  of  man  is  like  a  bird 
of  passage,  Avhich  nestles  here  in  the  outward  frame  of 
flesh  for  a  time,  and  then  flies  away  beyond  the  sea  to 
some  brighter,  warmer  home.  There  was  the  thought 
that  the  Christian  soul  ought  to  be  like  "  the  birds  of 
the  air,"  according  to  the  Gospel  phrase,  without  anx- 
iety or  soHcitude.  There  was  the  thought  also  that  each 
Christian  soul  is,  like  the  dove,  a  messenger  of  peace,  is 
part  of  the  heavenly  brood  which  flies  upwards  towards 
that  Spirit  of  which  it  is  the  emanation  and  the  like- 
ness. 

And  when  we  come  to  the  epitaphs  of  the  ancient 
dead  we  find  still  the  same  simple  feeling.  There  is  no 
long  description ;  till  the  third  century,  not  even  the 
date  ;  no  formal  profession  of  belief  ;  no  catalogue  either 
of  merits  or  demerits  ;  but,  generally  speaking,  one  short 
word  to  tell  of  the  tender  sentiment  of  natural  affec- 
tion :  "  My  most  sweet  child  ;  "  "  My  most  sweet  wife  ; " 
"  My  most  dear  husband  ;  "  "  My  innocent  dove  ;  "  "  My 
well-deserving  father  or  mother  ;  "  "  Innocent  little 
lamb  ;  "  "Such  and  such  an  one  lived  together,  without 
any  complaint  or  quarrel,  without  taking  or  giving  of- 
fence." 

Amongst  all  the  epitaphs  and  monuments  of  West- 
minster Abbey,  there  is  one,  and  one  only,  which  re- 
minds us  of  the  Catacombs.  It  is  that  of  a  little  York- 
shire girl,  wlio  lies  in  the  cloisters,  and  who  died  in  the 
midst  of  the  troubles  which  preceded  the  Revolution  of 
1688.  There  are  just  the  dates,  and  the  name  of  her 
brother,  whom  the  parents  had  lost  a  short  time  before, 
and  who  is  buried  in  St.  Helen's  Church,  in  York :  and 
all  that  they  say  of  her  or  of  the  crisis  of  the  age  is, 
^'■Jane  lAster^  dear  child.''''     That  is  exactly  like  the  Cat- 


Chap.  XIH.]  THE  EPITAPHS.  291 

acombs;  that  is  the  perpetual  sympathy  of  human  nat- 
ure. In  these  words  the  whole  Christian  world,  from 
the  nineteenth  century  to  the  first,  "  is  kin." 

And  if,  in  the  outpouring  of  this  natural  affection, 
the  survivors  from  time  to  time  refuse  to  lose  sight  of 
the  dead  in  the  other  world,  it  is  still  to  be  remarked 
that  the  communion  with  them  rests  on  this  family 
bond,  and  on  none  other.  There  is  a  touching  devotional 
poem  of  modern  date,  which  seems  more  than  any  other 
to  recall  the  peculiar  feeling  of  the  early  Catacombs  in 
this  respect.  It  is  that  of  the  Russian  poet  Chamiakoff, 
on  visiting  the  nursery  of  his  dead  children  :  — 

"  Time  was  when  I  loved  at  still  midnight  to  come, 
My  children,  to  see  you  asleep  in  your  room  ; 
Dear  children,  at  that  same  still  midnight  do  ye, 
As  I  once  prayed  for  you,  now  in  turn  pray  for  me."  ^ 

2.  But  besides  these  expressions  of  natural  affection, 
there  are  two  expressions  of  religious  devotion  which  con- 
stantly occur.  The  first  is  repeated  almost  in  The  idea  of 
every  epitaph  —  "  In  peace.''''  It  is  the  phrase  "^'" 
which  the  early  Christians  took  from  the  Jews.  In  the 
Jewish  Catacombs  it  is  found  in  the  Hebrew  word  — 
"  Shalom.''''  As  the  expressions  just  quoted  indicate  the 
link  between  the  belief  of  the  early  Christians  and  the 
natural  feelings  of  the  human  heart,  so  does  this  indi- 
cate the  link  between  their  belief  and  that  of  ancient 
Judaism.  But  its  earnest  reiteration  gives  a  special  force 
to  it.  It  conveys  their  assurance  that  whatever  else  was 
the  other  world,  it  was  at  least  a  world  of  rest.  The 
wars,  the  jealousies,  the  jars,  the  contentions,  the  misap- 
prehensions, the  disputes  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  of 
the  Christian  Church,  would  there  at  last  be  finished. 
"Sleep  "  —  "  repose"  —  is  the  word  —  indefinite,   but 

1  I  have  ventured  to  borrow  the  translation  of  the  Kev.  William  Palmer. 


292  THE   ROMAN   CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

sufficient  —  for  the  condition  of  their  departed  friends. 
The  burial-places  of  the  world  henceforth  became  what 
they  were  first  called  in  the  Catacombs  —  or  at  least  first  ^ 
called  on  an  extensive  scale  — "  cemeteries,"  that  is, 
"  sleeping-places." 

3.  There  is  one  other  word  which  occurs  frequently 
after  the  mention  of  "peace,"  and  that  is,  '•''Live  in 
The  idea  of  Grod"  or  "  thou  slialt  live  in  God,"  or  "  may- 
immortaiity.  ^^^  ^|^^^^  jj^.g  -^^  God,"  or  "  thou  Hvcst  in  God." 

This  is  the  yet  farther  step  from  simple  innocence,  from 
Oriental  resignation.  That  is  the  early  Christians'  ex- 
pression of  the  ground  of  their  belief  in  immortality. 
We  might  perhaps  have  expected  some  more  precise  allu- 
sion to  the  sacred  name  by  which  they  were  especially 
called,  or  to  some  of  those  Gospel  stories  of  which  we  do, 
at  least  in  the  third  century,  find  representations  in  their 
pictures.  But  in  these  epitaphs  it  is  not  so.  They 
were  content  in  the  written  expression  of  their  belief  to 
repose  their  hopes  in  the  highest  name  of  all. 

These  simple  words  —  "  Vive  in  Deo  "  and  "  Vivas  in 
Deo  ^^  —  sometimes  it  is  "  Vive  in  Bono'''  —  describe 
what  to  them  was  the  object  and  the  ground  of  their  ex- 
istence for  the  first  three  centuries.  They  last  appear 
in  the  year  330,  and  after  that  appear  no  more  again  till 
quite  modern  times,  in  express  imitation  of  them,  as  for 
example  in  the  beautiful  epitaph  on  the  late  lamented 
Duke  John  of  Torlonia,  in  the  Church  of  St.  John  Lat- 
eran.  As  a  general  rule,  nowhere  now,  either  in  Roman 
Catholic  or  Protestant  churches,  do  we  ever  see  these 
once  universal  expressions  of  the  ancient  hope.  They 
have  been  superseded  by  more  definite,  more  detailed, 
more  positive  statements.  Perhaps  if  they  were  now 
used  they  would  be  thought  Deistic,  or  Theistic,  or  Pan- 

1  Mommsen  says  that  the  words  icoi/j.7)T»jpioi',  nccubitorium,  are  not  exclusively 
Christian.     But  for  practical  purposes  they  are  so. 


Chap.  XIII.]  CONCLUSION.  293 

theistic,  or  Atheistic.  But  when  we  reflect  upon  them, 
they  run  very  deep  down  into  the  heart  both  of  philoso- 
phy and  of  Christianity.  They  express  the  hope  that, 
because  the  Supreme  Good  lives  forever,  all  that  is  good 
and  true  will  live  forever  also.  They  express  the  hope 
that  because  the  Universal  Father  lives  forever,  we  can 
safely  trust  into  His  loving  hands  the  souls  of  those  whom 
we  have  loved,  and  whom  He,  we  cannot  help  believing, 
has  loved  also. 

Perhaps  the  more  we  think  of  this  ancient  style  of 
epitaph,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  not  the  less  true  because 
now  it  is  now  never  written  ;  not  the  less  consoling  be- 
cause it  is  so  ancient ;  not  the  less  comprehensive  because 
it  is  so  simple,  so  short,  and  so  childlike. 

VI.  Let  us  briefly  sum  up  what  has  been  said  on  these 
representatious  of  the  early  Christian  belief. 

1.  They  differ  widely  in  proportion,  in  selection,  aud 
in  character,  from  the  representations  of  belief  which 
we  find  in  the  contemporaneous  Christian  authors,  and 
thus  give  us  a  striking  example  of  the  divergence  which 
often  exists  between  the  actual  living,  popular  belief, 
and  that  which  we  find  in  books.  They  differ  also  in 
the  same  respects,  though  even  more  widely,  from  the 
forms  adopted,  not  only  by  ourselves,  but  b}'-  the  whole 
of  Christendom,  for  nearly  fifteen  hundred  yeai's.  They 
show,  what  it  is  never  without  interest  to  observe,  the 
immense  divergence  in  outward  expression  of  belief  be- 
tween those  ages  and  our  own.  The  forms  which  we 
use  were  unused  by  them,  and  the  forms  which  they 
used,  for  the  most  part  are  unused  by  us. 

2.  The  substance  of  the  faith  which  these  forms  ex- 
pressed is  such  as,  when  it  is  put  before  us,  we  at  once 
recognize  to  be  true. 

It  might  sometimes  be  worth  while  to  ask  whether 
what  are  called  attacks  or  defences  of  our  religion  are 


294  THE  ROMAN  CATACOMBS.  [Chap.  XIII. 

directed  in  the  slightest  degree  for  or  against  the  ideas 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  constitute  the  chief  materials 
of  the  faith  and  life  of  the  early  Chistians.  In  a  well- 
known  work  of  Strauss,  entitled  "  The  Old  and  New 
Belief,"  there  is  an  elaborate  attack  on  what  the  writer 
calls  "  the  Old  Belief."  Of  the  various  articles  of  that 
"old  belief"  which  he  enumerates,  hardly  one  appears 
conspicuously  in  the  Catacombs.  Of  the  special  forms 
of  belief  which  appear  in  the  Catacombs,  hardly  one  is 
mentioned  in  the  catalogue  of  doctrines  so  vehemently 
assailed  in  that  work.  The  belief  of  the  Catacombs,  as 
a  general  rule,  is  not  that  which  is  either  defended  by 
modern  theologians  ^  or  attacked  by  modern  sceptics. 

3.  When  we  reflect  that  these  same  ideas  which  form 
the  all-sufiicing  creed  of  the  early  Church  are  not  openly 
disputed  by  any  Church  or  sect  in  Christendom,  it  may 
be  worth  while  to  ask  whether,  after  all,  there  is  any- 
thing very  absurd  in  supposing  that  all  Christians  have 
something  in  common  with  each  other.  The  pictures 
of  the  Good  Shepherd  and  of  the  Vine,  the  devotional 
language  of  the  epitaphs  —  whether  we  call  them  secta- 
rian or  unsectarian,  denominational  or  undenominational 
—  have  not  been  watchwords  of  parties ;  no  public  meet- 
ings have  been  held  for  defending  or  abolishing  them,  no 
persecutions  or  prosecutions  have  been  set  on  foot  to  put 
theui  down  or  to  set  them  up.  And  yet  it  is  certain 
that,  by  the  early  Christians,  they  were  not  thought 
vague,  fleeting,  unsubstantial,  colorless,  but  were  the 
food  of  their  daily  lives,  their  hope  under  the  severest 
trials,  the  dogma  of  dogmas,  if  we  choose  so  to  call  them, 
the  creed  of  their  creed,  because  the  very  life  of  their 
life. 

1  In  the  Lateran  Museum  are  two  or  three  compartments  of  epitaphs  classed 
under  the  head  of  "illustrations  of  clor/miis."  But  there  is  only  one  doubtful 
example  of  any  passage  relating  to  a  dogma  controverted  by  any  Christian 
Church. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   CEEED    OP   THE   EARLY   CHEISTIAJSTS. 

The  formula  into  which  the  early  Christian  belief 
shaped  itself  has  since  grown  up  into  the  various  creeds 
which  have  been  adopted  by  the  Christian  Church.  The 
two  most  widely  known  are  that  of  Chalcedon,  commonly 
called  the  Nicene  Creed,  and  that  of  the  Roman  Church, 
commonly  called  the  Apostles'.  The  first  is  that  which 
pervaded  the  Eastern  Church.  Its  orighial  form  was 
that  drawn  up  at  Nicsea  on  the  basis  of  the  creed  of 
Csesarea  produced  by  Eusebius.  Large  additions  were 
made  to  it  to  introduce  the  dogmatical  question  discussed 
in  the  Nicene  Council.  It  concluded  with  anathemas  on 
all  who  pronounced  the  Son  to  be  of  a  different  Hypos- 
tasis from  the  Father.  Another  Creed  much  resembling 
this,  but  with  extensive  additions  at  the  close,  and  with 
an  omission  of  the  anathemas,  was  said  to  have  been 
made  at  the  Constantinopolitan  Council,  but  was  first 
proclaimed  at  the  Council  of  Chalcedon. ^  It  underwent 
a  yet  further  change  in  the  West  from  the  adoption  of 
the  clause  which  states  that  the  Holy  Ghost  proceeds 
from  the  Son,  as  well  as  from  the  Father.  The  creed  of 
the  Roman  Church  came  to  be  called  "  the  Apostles' 
Creed,"  from  the  fable  that  the  twelve  Apostles  had 
each  of  them  contributed  a  clause.  It  was  successively 
enlarged.  First  was  added  the  "  Remission  of  Sins," 
next   "  the    Life    Eternal."      Then  came  ^  the   "  Resur- 

1  See  Chapter  XAT. 

2  This  clause  unquestionably  conveys  the  belief,  so  emphatically  contradicted 
by  St.  Paul  (1  Cor.  xv.  35,  36,  50),  of  the  Kesurrection  of  the  corporeal  frame. 


296     THE  CREED  OF  THE  EARLY  CHRISTIANS.  [Chai-.  XIV. 

rection  of  the  Flesh."  Lastly  was  incorporated  the  "  De- 
scent ^  into  Hell,"  and  the  "  Communion  of  the  Saints." 
It  is  observable  that  the  Creed,  whether  in  its  Eastern  or 
its  Western  form,  leaves  out  of  view  altogether  such 
questions  as  the  necessity  of  Episcopal  succession,  tlie 
origin  and  use  of  the  Sacraments,  the  honor  due  to  the 
Virgin  Mary,  the  doctrine  of  Substitution,  the  doctrine 
of  Predestination,  the  doctrine  of  Justification,  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Pope's  authority.  These  may  be  important 
and  valuable,  but  they  are  not  in  any  sense  part  of  the 
authorized  creed  of  the  early  Christians.  The  doctrine 
of  Baptism  appears  in  the  Constantinopolitan  Creed,  but 
merely  in  the  form  of  a  protest  against  its  repetition. 
The  doctrine  of  Justification  might  possibly  be  connected 
with  "  the  Forgiveness  of  Sins,"  but  no  theory  is  ex- 
pressed on  the  subject.  Again,  most  of  the  successive 
clauses  were  added  for  purposes  peculiar  to  that  age,  and 
run,  for  the  most  part,  into  accidental  questions  which 
had  arisen  in  the  Church.  The  Conception,  the  Descent 
into  Hell,  the  Communion  of  Saints,  the  Resurrection  of 
the  Flesh,  are  found  onl}'  in  the  Western,  not  in  the 
original  Nicene  Creed.  The  controversial  expressions 
respecting  the  Hypostasis  and  the  Essence  of  the  Divin- 
ity are  found  only  in  the  Eastern,  not  in  the  Western 
Creed. 

But  there  is  one  point  which  the  two  Creeds  both 
have  in  common.  It  is  the  framework  on  which  they 
are  formed.     That  framework  is  the  simple  expression 

It  has  been  softened  in  the  modern  rendering  into  the  "Resurrection  of  tlie 
Bod_v,"  which,  althougli  still  open  to  misconception,  is  capable  of  the  spiritual 
sense  of  the  Apostle.  But  in  the  Baptismal  Service  the  original  clause  is  pre- 
sented in  its  peculiarly  offensive  form. 

1  This  was  perhaps  originally  a  synonym  for  "  He  was  buried,"  as  it  occurs 
in  those  versions  of  the  Creed  where  the  burial  is  omitted.  But  it  soon  came  to 
be  used  as  the  expression  for  that  vast  system  — partly  of  fantastic  superstition, 
partly  of  valuable  truth —  involved  in  the  deliverance  of  the  early  Patriarchs  by 
the  entrance  of  the  Saviour  into  the  world  of  shades. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE   FATHER.  297 

of  faith  used  in  the  Baptism  of  the  early  Christians.  It 
is-  taken  from  the  First  Gospel,^  and  it  consists  of  "  the 
name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost." 

I.  It  is  proposed  to  ask,  in  the  first  instance,  the  Bib- 
lical meaning  of  the  words.  In  the  hymn  Quicunque  vult, 
as  in  Dean  Swift's  celebrated  "Sermon  on  the  Trinity," 
there  is  no  light  whatever  thrown  on  their  signification. 
They  are  used  like  algebraic  symbols,  which  would  be 
equally  appropriate  if  they  were  inverted,  or  if  other 
words  were  substituted  for  them.  They  give  noanswer 
to  the  question  what  in  the  minds  of  the  early  Christians 
they  represented. 

1.  What,  then,  is  meant  in  the  Bible  —  what  in  the 
experience  of  thoughtful  men  —  by  the  name  of  The 
Father  ?  In  one  word  it  expresses  to  us  the  whole  faith 
of  what  we  call  Natural  Religion.  We  see  it  in  all  re- 
ligions. "Not  only  is  the  omnipresence  of  something 
which  passes  comprehension,  that  most  distinct  belief 
which  is  common  to  all  religions,  which  becomes  the  more 
distinct  in  proportion  as  things  develop,  and  which  re- 
mains after  their  discordant  elements  have  been  can- 
celled;  but  it  is  that  belief  which  the  most  unsparing 
criticism  leaves  unquestionable,  or  rather  makes  ever 
clearer.  It  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the  most  inexorable 
logic ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  belief  which  the  most 
inexorable  logic  shows  to  be  more  profoundly  true  than 
any  religion  supposes."  ^  As  mankind  increases  in  civil- 
ization, there  is  an  increasing  perception  of  order,  design, 
and  good-will  towards  the  living  creatures  which  animate 

1  It  is  not  certain  that  in  early  times  this  formula  was  in  use.  The  first  pro- 
fession of  belief  was  onlv  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  (Acts  ii.  38,  viii.  12, 
16,  X.  48,  xix.  5).  In  later  times,  Cyprian  (Ep.  Ixiii.),  the  Council  of  Frejus, 
and  Pope  Nicholas  the  First  acknowledged  the  validity  of  tliis  form.  Still  it 
soon  superseded  the  profession  of  belief  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  second  cen- 
tury had  become  universal.     (See  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities,  i.  162.) 

2  Herbert  Spencer,  First  Principles,  p.  45. 


298  THE  CREED   OF   THE   EARLY  CHRISTIANS.    [Chap.  XIV. 

it.  Often,  it  is  true,  we  cannot  trace  any  such  design ; 
but  "whenevev  we  can,  the  impression  left  upon  us  is  the 
sense  of  a  Single,  Wise,  Beneficent  Mind.  And  in  our 
own  hearts  and  consciences  we  feel  an  instinct  corre- 
sponding to  this  —  a  voice,  a  faculty,  that  seems  to  refer 
us  to  a  Higher  Power  than  ourselves,  and  to  point  to 
some  Invisible  Sovereign  Will,  like  to  that  which  we  see 
impressed  on  the  natural  world.  And,  further,  the 
more  we  think  of  the  Supreme,  the  more  we  try  to  imagine 
what  His  feelings  are  towards  us  —  the  more  our  idea  of 
Him  becomes  fixed  as  in  the  one  simple,  all-embracing 
word  that  He  is  the  Father.  The'word  itself  has  been 
given  to  us  by  Christ.  It  is  the  peculiar  revelation  of  the 
Divine  nature  made  by  Christ  Himself.  Whereas  it  is 
used  three  times  in  the  Old  Testament,  it  is  used  two 
hundred  times  in  the  New.  But  it  was  the  confirma- 
tion of  what  was  called  by  Tertullian  the  testimony  of 
the  naturally  Christian  soul  —  testimonium  animce  nat- 
uraliter  Christiance.  The  Greek  expression  of  "  the 
Father  of  Gods  and  men "  is  an  approach  towards  it. 
There  may  be  much  in  the  dealings  of  the  Supreme  and 
Eternal  that  we  do  not  understand  ;  as  there  is  much  in 
the  dealings  of  an  earthly  father  that  his  earthly  children 
cannot  understand.  Yet  still  to  be  assured  that  there  is 
One  above  us  whose  praise  is  above  any  human  praise  — 
who  sees  us  as  we  really  are  —  who  has  our  welfare  at 
heart  in  all  the  various  dispensations  which  befall  us  — 
whose  wide-embracing  justice  and  long-suffering  and  en- 
durance we  all  may  strive  to  obtain  —  this  is  the  foun- 
dation with  which  ever^'thing  in  all  subsequent  religion 
must  be  made  to  agree.  "  One  thing  alone  is  certain  : 
the  Fatherly  smile  which  every  now  and  then  gleams 
through  Nature,  bearing  witness  that  an  Eye  looks  down 
upon  us,  that  a  Heart  follows  us."  ^     To  strive  to  be  per- 

1  Kenan's  Eibbtrt  Lectuns  for  1880,  p.  202. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE   SON.  299 

feet  as  our  Father  is  perfect  is  the  greatest  effort  which 
the  human  soul  can  place  before  itself.  To  repose  upon 
this  perfection  is  the  greatest  support  which  in  sorrow 
and  weakness  it  can  have  in  making  those  efforts.  This 
is  the  expression  of  Natural  Religion.  This  is  the  reve- 
lation of  God  the  Father. 

2.  What  is  meant  by  the  name  of  the  Son  ? 

It  has  often  happened  that  the  conception  of  Natural 
Relisrion  becomes  faint  and  dim.  "  The  being  of  a  God 
is  as  certain  to  me  as  the  certainty  of  my  own  existence. 
Yet  when  I  look  out  of  myself  into  the  world  of  men,  I 
see  a  sight  which  fills  me  with  unspeakable  distress.  The 
world  of  men  seems  simply  to  give  the  lie  to  that  great 
truth  of  which  my  whole  being  is  so  full.  If  I  looked 
into  a  mirror  and  did  not  see  my  face,  I  should  experience 
the  same  sort  of  difficulty  that  actually  comes  npon  me 
when  I  look  into  tliis  living  busy  world  and  see  no  reflec- 
tion of  its  Creator."  ^  How  is  this  difficulty  to  be  met? 
How  shall  we  regain  in  the  world  of  men  the  idea  which 
the  world  of  Nature  has  suggested  to  us  ?  How  shall  the 
dim  remembrance  of  our  Universal  Father  be  so  broug-ht 
home  to  us  as  that  we  shall  not  forget  it  or  lose  it  ?  This 
is  the  object  of  the  Second  Sacred  Name  by  which  God  is 
revealed  to  us.  As  in  the  name  of  the  Father  we  have 
Natural  Religion  —  the  Faith  of  the  Natural  Conscience 
—  so  in  the  name  of  the  Son  we  have  Historical  Religion, 
or  the  Faith  of  the  Christian  Church.  As  "  the  Father  " 
represents  to  us  God  in  Nature,  God  in  the  heavenly  or 
ideal  world  —  so  the  name  of  "  the  Son  "  represents  to  us 
God  in  History,  God  in  the  character  of  man,  God  above 
all,  in  the  Person  of  Jesus  Chi-ist.  We  know  how  even 
in  earthly  relationships  an  absent  father,  a  departed 
father,  is  brought  before  our  recollections  in  the  appear- 
ance of  a  living,  present  son,  especially  in  a  son  who  by 
1  Dr.  Newman,  Apologia,  p.  241. 


300  THE   CREED    OF   THE   EARLY   CHRISTIANS.     [Chap.  XIV- 

the  distinguishing  features  of  his  mind  or  of  his  person  is 
a  real  likeness  of  his  father.  We  know  also  how  in  the 
case  of  those  whom  we  have  never  seen  at  all  there  is  still 
a  means  of  communication  with  them  through  reading 
their  letters,  their  works,  their  words.  So  it  is  in  this 
second  great  disclosure  of  the  Being  of  God.  If  some- 
times we  find  that  Nature  gives  us  an  uncertain  sound  of 
the  dealings  of  God  with  his  creatures,  if  we  find  a  dif- 
ficulty in  imagining  what  is  the  exact  character  that  God 
most  approves,  we  may  be  reassured,  strengthened,  fixed, 
by  hearing  or  reading  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  Mahometan 
rightly  objects  to  the  introduction  of  the  paternal  and 
filial  relations  into  the  idea  of  God,  when  they  are  inter- 
preted in  the  gross  and  literal  sense.  But  in  the  moral 
and  spiritual  sense  it  is  true  that  the  kindness,  tenderness, 
and  wisdom  we  find  in  Jesus  Christ  is  the  reflection  of 
the  same  kindness,  tenderness,  and  wisdom  that  we  rec- 
ognize in  the  governance  of  the  universe.  His  life  is  the 
Word,  the  speech  that  comes  to  us  out  of  that  eternal 
silence  which  surrounds  the  Unseen  Divinity.  He  is  the 
Second  Conscience,  the  external  Conscience,  reflecting, 
as  it  were,  and  steadying  the  conscience  within  each  of 
us.  And  wheresoever  in  history  the  same  likeness  is,  or 
has  been,  in  any  degree  reproduced  in  human  character, 
there  and  in  that  proportion  is  the  same  effect  produced. 
There  and  in  that  proportion  is  the  Word  which  speaks 
through  every  word  of  human  wisdom,  and  the  Light 
which  lightens  with  its  own  radiance  every  human  act  of 
righteousness  and  of  goodness.  In  the  Homeric  represen- 
tations of  Divinity  and  of  Humanity,  what  most  strikes  us 
is  that,  whereas  the  human  characters  are,  in  their  meas- 
ure, winning,  attractive,  heroic,  the  divine  characters  are 
capricious,  cruel,  revengeful,  sensual.  Such  an  inversion 
of  the  true  standard  is  rectified  by  the  identification  of 
the  Divine  nature  with  the  character  of  Christ.     If  in 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE    SON.  301 

Christ  the  highest  human  virtues  are  exalted  to  their 
highest  pitch,  this  teaches  us  that,  according  to  the  Chris- 
tian view,  in  the  Divine  nature  these  same  virtues  are 
still  to  be  found.  If  cruelty,  caprice,  revenge,  are  out  of 
place  in  Christ,  they  are  equally  out  of  place  in  God,  To 
believe  in  the  name  of  Christ,  in  the  name  of  the  Son,  is 
to  believe  that  God  is  above  all  other  qualities  a  Moral 
Being  —  a  Being  not  merely  of  power  and  wisdom,  but  a 
Being  of  tender  compassion,  of  boundless  charity,  of  dis- 
criminating tenderness.  To  believe  in  the  name  of  Christ 
is  to  believe  that  no  other  approach  to  God  exists  except 
through  those  same  qualities  of  justice,  truth,  and  love 
which  makeup  the  mind  of  Christ.  "  Ye  believe  in  God, 
believe  also  in  me,"  is  given  as  His  own  farewell  address. 
Ye  believe  in  the  Father,  ye  believe  in  Religion  gener- 
ally ;  believe  also  in  the  Son,  the  Christ.  For  this  is  the 
form  in  which  the  Divine  Nature  has  been  made  most 
palpably  known  to  the  world,  in  flesh  and  blood,  in  facts 
and  words,  in  life  and  death.  This  is  the  claim  that 
Christianity  and  Christendom  have  upon  us,  with  all 
their  infinite  varieties  of  institutions,  ordinances,  arts, 
laws,  liberties,  charities  —  that  they  spring  forth  directly 
or  indirectly  from  the  highest  earthly  manifestation  of 
Our  Unseen  Eternal  Father. 

The  amplifications  in  the  Eastern  and  Western  Creeds 
have,  it  is  true,  but  a  very  slight  bearing  on  the  nature 
of  the  Divine  Revelation  in  Jesus  Christ.  They  do  not 
touch  at  all  (except  in  the  expression  "  Light  of  Light  ") 
on  the  moral,  which  is  the  only  important,  aspect  of  the 
doctrine.  They  entirely  (as  was  observed  many  years 
ago  by  Bishop  Thirlwall)  "miss  the  point."  Bishop 
Pearson,  in  his  elaborate  dissertation  on  this  article  of 
the  Creed,  is  wholly  silent  on  this  subject.  These  ex- 
positions do  not  tell  us  whether  the  Being  of  whom  they 
speak  was  good  or  wicked,  mild  or  fierce,  truthful  or  un- 


302  THE   CREED   OF   THE   EARLY    CHRISTIANS.     [Chap.  XIV. 

truthful.  The  Eastern  Creed  by  its  introduction  of  the 
expressions  "for  us,"  "  for  our  salvation,"  to  a  certain 
extent  conveys  the  idea  that  the  good  of  man  was  the  pur- 
pose for  which  He  lived  and  suffered.  But  the  Western 
Creed  does  not  contain  even  these  expressions.  The  Fif- 
teenth of  the  XXXIX.  Articles,  and  by  implication  a 
single  phrase  in  the  Seventeenth,  are  the  only  ones  which 
express  any  belief  in  the  moral  excellence  of  Christ. 
The  Second,  Third,  Fourth,  Fifth,  Thirty-first,  which 
speak  on  the  general  subject  of  His  person,  are  silent  on 
this  aspect.  The  clause  which  related  to  the  moral  side 
of  the  Saviour's  character,  "  Who  lived  amongst  men," 
had  been  in  the  Palestine  Creed,  but  was  struck  out  of 
the  Eastern  Creed  at  the  Council  of  Nicsea.  But  never- 
theless the  original  form  of  the  belief  in  "  the  only  Son  " 
remains  intact  and  acknowledged  by  all.  It  contains 
nothing  contrary  to  His  moral  perfections ;  and  it  may 
admit  them  all.  We  take  the  story  of  the  Gospels  as  it 
has  appeared  to  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  Goethe.  We  take 
it  in  those  parts  which  contain  least  matter  for  doubts 
and  difficulties.  We  speak  of  "the  method"  and  "  the 
secret "  of  Jesus  as  they  have  been  presented  to  us  in  the 
most  modern  works.  "  The  origin  of  Christianity  forms 
the  most  heroic  episode  of  the  history  of  humanity.  .  .  . 
Never  was  the  religious  consciousness  more  eminently 
creative  ;  never  did  it  lay  down  with  more  absolute  au- 
thority the  law  of  the  future."  ^  It  is  important  to  notice 
that  the  testimonies  to  the  greatness  of  this  historical 
revelation  are  not  confined  to  tlie  ordinary  writers  on  the 
subject,  but  are  even  more  powerfully  expressed  in  those 
who  are  above  the  slightest  suspicion  of  any  theological 
bias. 

It  is  not  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester  and  Bristol,  it  is 
Matthew  Arnold,  who  affirms, — 

1  Kenan's  Hibbert  Lectures  for  1880,  p.  8. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE   SON.  303 

"Try  all  the  ways  to  righteousness  you  can  think  of,  and  you 
will  find  that  no  way  brings  you  to  it  except  the  way  of  Jesus, 
but  that  this  way  does  bring  you  to  it." 

It  is  not  Bishop  Liglitfoot,  it  is  the  author  of  "  Super- 
natural Religion,"  who  asserts,  — 

"  The  teaching  of  Jesus  carried  morality  to  the  sublimest 
point  attained,  or  even  attainable  by  humanity.  The  influence 
of  His  spiritual  religion  has  been  rendered  doubly  great  by  the 
unparalleled  purity  and  elevation  of  His  own  character.  Sur- 
passing in  His  sublime  simplicity  and  earnestness  the  moral 
grandeur  of  Chakya-Mouni,  and  putting  to  the  blush  the  some- 
times sullied,  though  generally  admirable,  teaching  of  Socrates 
and  Plato,  and  the  whole  round  of  Greek  philosophers,  He  pre- 
sented the  rare  spectacle  of  a  life,  so  far  as  we  can  estimate  it, 
uniformly  noble  and  consistent  with  His  own  lofty  principles, 
so  that  the  "  imitation  of  Christ "  has  become  almost  the  final 
word  in  the  preaching  of  His  religion,  and  must  continue  to  be 
one  of  the  most  powerful  elements  of  its  permanence." 

It  is  not  Lord  Shaftesbury,  it  is  the  author  of  "  Eece 
Homo,"  who  says,  — 

"  The  story  of  His  life  will  always  remain  the  one  record  in 
which  the  moral  perfection  of  man  stands  revealed  in  its  root 
and  unity,  the  hidden  spring  made  palpably  manifest  by  which 
the  whole  machine  is  moved.  And  as,  in  the  will  of  God,  this 
unique  man  was  elected  to  a  unique  sorrow,  and  holds  as  un- 
disputed a  sovereignty  in  suffering  as  in  self-devotion,  all  lesser 
examples  and  lives  will  forever  hold  a  subordinate  place,  and 
serve  chiefly  to  reflect  light  on  the  central  and  original  example." 

It  is  no  Bampton  lecturer,  it  is  John  Stuart  Mill,  who 
says,  — 

"  It  is  the  God  incarnate,  more  than  the  God  of  the  Jews  or 
of  Nature,  who,  being  idealized,  has  taken  so  great  and  salutary 
a  hold  on  the  modern  mind.  And  whatever  else  may  be  taken, 
away  from  us  by  rational  criticism,  Christ  is  still  left,  —  a 
unique  figure,  not  more  unlike  all  His  precursors  than  all  His 


304  THE   CKEED   OF   THE   EARLY    CHRISTIANS.     [Chap.  XIV. 

followers,  even  those  who  had  the  direct  benefit  of  His  teach- 
ing." 

It  is  not  Lacordaire,  it  is  Renan,  who  affirms,  — 

"  In  Jesus  was  condensed  all  that  is  good  and  elevated  in  our 

nature.   .  .   .    God  is  in  Him.     He  feels  Himself  with  God,  and 

He  draws  from    His  own   heart  what   He  tells  of   His   Father. 

He  lives  in  the  bosom  of  God  by  the  intercommunion  of  every 

moment."  ^ 

Those  few  years  in  which  that  Life  was  lived  on  earth 
gathered  up  all  the  historical  expressions  of  religion  be- 
fore and  after  into  one  supreme  focus.  The  "  Word  made 
flesh"  was  the  union  of  religion  and  morality,  was  the 
declaration  that  in  the  highest  sense  the  Image  of  Man 
was  made  after  the  Im;ige  of  God.  "  Sterna  sapientia 
sese  in  omnibus  rebus,  muxime  in  humana  mente,  om- 
nium maxime  in  Christo  Jesu  raanifestavit."^  In  the 
gallery  through  which,  in  Goethe's  "  Wilhelm  JNIeister," 
the  student  is  led  to  understand  the  origin  and  meaning 
of  religion,  he  is  taught  to  see  in  the  child  which  looks 
upwards  the  reverence  for  that  which  is  above  us  —  that 
is,  the  worship  of  the  Father.  "  This  religion  we  denom- 
inate the  Ethnic  ;  it  is  the  religion  of  the  nations,  and 
the  first  happy  deliverance  from  a  degrading  fear."  He 
is  taught  to  see  in  the  child  Avhich  looks  downwards  the 
reverence  for  that  which  is  beneath  us.  "  This  we  name 
the  Christian.  What  a  task  it  was  ....  to  recognize 
humility  and  poverty,  mockery  and  despising,  disgrace 
and  wretchedness  and  suffering  —  to  recognize  these 
thinsrs  as  divine."  This  is  the  value  of  what  we  call  His- 
torical  Religion.  This  is  the  eternal,  never-dying  truth 
of  the  sacred  name  of  the  Son. 

1  This  series  of  extracts  is  quoted  from  an  admirable  sermon  bj'  Mr.  Muir, 
preached  before  the  Synod  of  Lothian  and  Tweeddale  November  5,  1879. 

2  Spinoza,  Ep.  xxi.  vol.  iii.  p.  195. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE   SPIRIT.  305 

3.  But  there  is  yet  a  third  manifestation  of  God. 
Natural  religion  may  become  vague  and  abstract.  His- 
torical religion  may  become,  as  it  often  has  become,  per- 
verted, distorted,  exhausted,  formalized ;  its  external 
proofs  may  become  dubious,  its  inner  meaning  may  be 
almost  lost.  There  have  been  oftentimes  Christians  who 
were  not  like  Christ  —  a  Christianity  which  was  not  the 
religion  of  Christ.  But  there  is  yet  another  aspect  of 
the  Divine  Nature.  Besides  the  reverence  for  that  which 
is  above  us,  and  the  reverence  for  that  which  is  beneath 
us,  there  is  also  the  reverence  for  that  which  is  within 
us.  There  is  yet  (if  we  may  venture  to  vary  Goethe's 
parable)  another  form  of  Religion,  and  that  is  Spiritual 
Religion.  As  the  name  of  the  Father  represents  to  us 
God  in  Nature,  as  the  name  of  the  Son  represents  to  us 
God  in  History,  so  the  name  of  the  Holy  Ghost  repre- 
sents to  us  God  in  our  own  hearts  and  spii'its  and  con- 
sciences. This  is  the  still,  small  voice  —  stillest  and 
smallest,  yet  loudest  and  strongest  of  all — which,  even 
more  than  the  wonders  of  nature  or  the  wonders  of  his- 
tory, brings  us  into  the  nearest  harmony  with  Him  who 
is  a  Spirit —  who,  when  His  closest  communion  with  man 
is  described,  can  only  be  described  as  the  Spirit  plead- 
ing with,  and  dwelling  in,  our  spirit.  When  Theodore 
Parker  took  up  a  stone  to  throw  at  a  tortoise  in  a  pond, 
he  felt  himself  restrained  by  something  within  him.  He 
went  home  and  asked  his  mother  what  that  something 
was.  She  told  him  that  this  something  was  what  was 
commonly  called  conscience,  but  she  preferred  to  call  it 
the  voice  of  God  within  him.  This,  he  said,  was  the 
turning-point  in  his  life,  and  this  was  his  mode  of  accept- 
ing the  truth  of  the  Divinity  of  the  Eternal  Spirit  that 
speaks  to  our  spirits.  When  Arnold  entered  with  all 
the  ardor  of  a  great  and  generous  nature  into  the  beauty 
of  the  natural  world,  he  added :  "  If  we  feel  thrilling 
20 


306  THE   CREED   OF   THE  EARLY   CHRISTIANS.      [Chap.  XIV. 

througli  ns  the  sense  of  this  natural  beauty,  what  ought 
to  be  our  sense  of  moral  beauty,  —  of  humbleness,  and 
truth,  and  self-devotion,  and  love?  Much  moi-e  beauti- 
ful, because  more  truly  made  after  God's  image,  are  the 
forms  and  colors  of  kind  and  wise  and  holy  thoughts  and 
words  and  actions  —  more  truly  beautiful  is  one  hour  of 
an  aged  peasant's  patient  cheerfulness  and  faith  than  the 
most  glorious  scene  which  this  earth  can  show.  For  this 
moral  beauty  is  actually,  so  to  speak,  God  Himself,  and 
not  merely  His  work.  His  living  and  conscious  servants 
are  —  it  is  permitted  us  to  say  so  —  the  temples  of  which 
the  light  is  God  himself." 

What  is  here  said  of  the  greatness  of  the  revelation  of 
God  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  sphere  over  His  revela- 
tion in  the  physical  world,  is  true  in  a  measure  of  its 
greatness  over  His  revelation  in  any  outward  form  or  fact, 
or  ordinance  or  woi'd.  To  enter  fully  into  the  signifi- 
cance of  what  is  sometimes  called  the  Dispensation  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  we  must  grasp  the  full  conception  of 
what  in  the  l)ible  is  meant  by  that  sacred  woi-d,  used  in 
varying  yet  homogeneous  senses,  and  all  equally  intended 
by  the  Sacred  Name  of  which  we  are  speaking.  It 
means  the  Inspiring  Breath,^  without  which  all  mere 
forms  and  facts  are  dead,  and  by  which  all  intellectual 
and  moral  energy  lives.  It  means  ^  the  inward  spirit  as 
opposed  to  the  outward  letter.  It  means  the  freedom  of 
the  spirit,  which  blows  like  the  air  of  heaven  where  it 
listeth,  and  which,  wherever  it  prevails,  gives  liberty .^ 
It  means  the  power  and  energy  of  the  spirit,  which  rises 
above  the  *  weakness  and  weariness  of  the  flesh  —  which, 
in  the  great  movements  of    Providence,^  like  a  mighty 

1  Gen.  i.  2,  vi.  3;  Exod.  xxxv.  31;  Judges  xi.  29,  xiii.  25,  xiv.  6,  19,  xv. 
14;  Isa.  Ixi.  1;  Eph.  i.  12,  iii.  12,  xxxiii.  14;  Luke  iv.  18;  John  i.  33. 

2  Psalm  li.  10,  11,  12  ;  2  Cor.  iii.  6. 
8  .loliii  iii.  8;  2  Cor.  iu.  28. 

4  Matt.  xxvi.  41. 
6  Acts  ii.  4,  17. 


Chap.  XIV.]  ITS   UNIVERSALITY.  307 

rushing  wind,  gives  life  and  vigor  to  tlie  human  soul  and 
to  the  human  race. 

"  One  accent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
The  heedless  world  has  never  lost." 

To  believe  in  a  Presence  ^  within  us  pleading  with  our 
prayers,  groaning  with  our  groans,  aspiring  with  our 
aspirations  —  to  believe  in  the  Divine  supremacy  of  con- 
science —  to  believe  that  the  spirit  is  above  the  letter  — 
to  believe  that  the  substance  is  above  the  form  ^  —  to 
believe  that  the  meaning  is  more  important  than  the 
words  —  to  believe  that  truth  is  greater  than  authority 
or  fashion  or  imagination,^  and  will  at  last  prevail  —  to 
believe  that  goodness  and  justice  and  love  are  the  bonds 
of  perfectness,*  without  which  whosoever  liveth  is  counted 
dead  though  he  live,  and  which  bind  together  those  who 
are  divided  in  all  other  things  whatsoever  —  this,  accord- 
ing to  ihe  Biblical  uses  of  the  word,  is  involved  in  the 
expression  :  "  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost."  In  this 
sense  there  is  a  close  connection  between  the  later  ad- 
ditions of  the  Creeds  and  the  original  article  on  which 
they  depend.  The  Universal  Church,  the  Forgiveness  of 
Sins,  are  direct  results  of  the  influence  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  on  the  heart  of  man.  The  hope  of  "  the  Resur- 
rection of  the  Dead  and  of  the  Life  of  the  World  to 
Come,"  as  expressed  in  the  Eastern  Creed,  are  the  best 
expressions  of  its  vitality.  The  Communion  of  Saints 
in  the  Western  Creed  is  a  beautiful  expression  of  its  per- 
vasive force.  Even  the  untoward  expression,  "  the  Res- 
urrection of  the  flesh,"  may  be  taken  as  an  awkward  in- 
dication of  the  same  aspiration  for  the  triumph  of  mind 
over  matter. 

II.  Such  is  the  significance  of  these  three  Sacred 
Names  as  we  consider  them  apart.     Let  us  now  consider 

1  Rom.  viii.  16,  26 ;  Eph.  ii.  18. 

2  John  iv.  25. 

8  Gal.  V.  22;  Eph.  v.  9. 

<  John  xiv.  17,  26;  xv.  26;  xvi.  13. 


308         THE  CREED   OF   THE   EARLY   CHRISTIANS.      [Chap.  XIV. 

what  is  to  be  learned  from  their  being  thus  made  the 
summary  of  Religion. 

1.  First  it  may  be  observed  that  there  is  this  in  com- 
mon between  the  Biblical  and  the  scholastic  represen- 
tations of  the  doctiine  of  the  Trinity.  Tho^  e^xpress 
to  us  the  comprehensiveness  and  diversity  of  the  Divine 
Essence.  We  might  perhaps  have  thought  that  as  God 
is  One,  so  there  could  be  only  one  mode  of  conceiving 
Him,  one  mode  of  approaching  Him.  But  the  Bible, 
when  taken  from  first  to  last  and  in  all  its  parts,  tells  us 
that  there  is  yet  a  greater,  wider  view.  The  nature  of 
God  is  vaster  and  more  complex  than  can  be  embraced  in 
any  single  formula.  As  in  His  dealings  with  men  gen- 
erally, it  has  been  truly  said  that 

"  God  doth  fulfil  Himself  in  many  ways, 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world,'' 

so  out  of  these  many  ways  and  many  names  we  learn  from 
the  Bible  that  there  are  especially  these  three  great  rev- 
elations, these  three  ways  in  which  He  can  be  approached. 
None  of  them  is  to  be  set  aside.  It  is  true  that  the 
threefold  name  of  which  we  are  speaking  is  never  in  the 
Bible  brought  forward  in  the  form  of  an  unintelligible 
mystery.  It  is  certain  that  the  only  place  ^  where  it  is 
put  before  us  as  an  arithmetical  enigma  is  now  known  to 
be  spurious.  Yet  it  is  still  the  fact  that  the  indefinite 
description  of  the  Power  that  governs  all  things  is  a 
wholesome  rebuke  to  that  readiness  to  dispose  of  the 
whole  question  of  the  Divine  nature,  as  if  God  were  a 
man,  a  person  like  ourselves.  The  hymn  of  Reginald 
Heber,  which  is  one  of  the  few  in  which  the  feeling  of 
the  poet  and  the  scholar  is  interwoven  with  the  strains 
of  simple  devotion  — 

"Holy,  holy,  holy.  Lord  God  Almighty"  — 

refuses  to  lend  itself  to  any  anthropomorphic  specula- 
tions, and  takes  refuge   in   abstractions  as   much   with- 

1  1  John  V.  7. 


Chap.  XIV.]  ITS   SEPARATE   PARTS.  309 

drawn  from  the  ordinary  figures  of  human  speech  and 
metaphor,  as  if  it  had  been  composed  by  Kant  or  Hegel. 
To  acknowledge  this  triple  form  of  revelation,  to  ac- 
knowledge this  complex  aspect  of  the  Deity,  as  it  runs 
through  the  multiform  expressions  of  the  Bible  —  saves, 
as  it  were,  the  awe,  the  reverence  due  to  the  Almighty 
Ruler  of  the  universe,  tends  to  preserve  the  balance  of 
truth  from  any  partial  or  polemical  bias,  presents  to  us 
not  a  meagre,  fragmentary  view  of  only  one  part  of  the 
Divine  Mind,  but  a  wide,  catholic  summary  of  the  whole, 
so  far  as  nature,  history,  and  experience  permit.  If  we 
cease  to  think  of  the  Universal  Father,  we  become  nar- 
row and  exclusive.  If  we  cease  to  think  of  the  Founder 
of  Christianity  and  of  the  grandeur  of  Christendom,  we 
lose  our  hold  on  the  great  historic  events  which  have 
swayed  the  hopes  and  affections  of  man  in  the  highest 
moments  of  human  progress.  If  we  cease  to  think  of 
the  Spirit,  we  lose  the  inmost  meaning  of  Creed  and 
Prayer,  of  Church  and  Bible,  of  human  character,  and 
of  vital  religion.  In  that  apologue  of  Goethe  before 
quoted,  when  the  inquiring  student  asks  his  guides  who 
have  shown  him  the  three  forms  of  reverence,  "  To  which 
of  these  religions  do  you  adhere  ?  "  "  To  all  the  three," 
they  reply,  "  for  in  their  union  they  produce  the  true 
religion,  which  has  been  adopted,  though  unconsciously, 
by  a  great  part  of  the  world."  "  How,  then,  and  where  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  inquirer.  "  In  the  Creed,"  replied  they. 
"For  the  first  article  is  ethnic,  and  belongs  to  all  na- 
tions. The  second  is  Christian,  and  belongs  to  those 
struggling  with  affliction,  glorified  in  affliction.  The 
third  teaches  us  an  inspired  communion  of  saints.  And 
should  not  the  three  Divine  Persons^  j^^stly  be  consid- 
ered as  in  the  highest  sense  One  ?  " 

i  Goethe  probablj'  used  this  expression  as  the  one  that  came  nearest  to  hand. 
To  make  it  correct,  it  must  be  taken,  not  in  the  modern  sense  of  individual 
beings,  but  in  the  ancient  sense  of  "Hypostasis,"  or  "groundwork." 


310         THE   CREED   OF   THE   EARLY   CHRISTIANS.       [Chap.  XIV. 

2.  And  yet  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  pursue  each 
of  these  sacred  words  into  its  own  recesses,  we  may  be 
thankful  that  we  are  thus  allowed  at  times  to  look  upon 
each  as  though  each  for  the  moment  were  the  whole  and 
entire  name  of  which  we  are  in  search.  There  are  in  the 
sanctuaries  of  the  old  churches  of  the  East  on  Mount 
Athos  sacred  pictures  intended  to  represent  the  doctrhie 
of  the  Trinity,  in  which,  as  the  spectator  stands  at  one 
side,  he  sees  only  the  figure  of  Our  Saviour  on  the  Cross, 
as  he  stands  on  the  other  side  he  sees  only  the  Heavenly 
Dove,  as  he  stands  in  the  front  he  sees  only  the  Ancient 
of  Days,  the  Eternal  Father.  So  it  is  with  the  represen- 
tations of  this  truth  in  the  Bible,  and,  we  may  add,  in 
the  experiences  of  religious  life. 

Sometimes,  as  in  the  Old  Testament,  especially  in  the 
Psalms,  we  are  alone  with  God,  we  trust  in  Him,  we  are 
His  and  He  is  ours.  The  feeling  that  He  is  our  Father, 
and  that  we  are  His  children,  is  all-sufScing.  We  need 
not  be  afraid  so  to  think  of  Him.  Whatever  other  dis- 
closures He  has  made  of  Himself  are  but  the  filling  up  of 
this  vast  outline.  Whatever  other  belief  we  have  or  have 
not,  cling  to  this.  By  this  faith  lived  many  in  Jewish 
times,  who  obtained  a  good  report,  even  when  they  had 
not  received  the  promise.  By  this  faith  have  lived  many 
a  devout  sage  and  hero  of  the  ancient  would,  whom  He 
assuredly  will  not  reject.  So  long  as  we  have  a  hope 
that  this  Supreme  Existence  watches  over  the  human 
race  —  so  long  as  this  great  Ideal  remains  before  us,  the 
material  world  has  not  absorbed  our  whole  being,  has  not 
obscured  the  whole  horizon. 

Sometimes,  again,  as  in  the  Gospels  or  in  particular 
moments  of  life,  we  see  no  revelation  of  God  except  in  the 
world  of  history.  There  are  those  to  whom  science  is 
dumb,  to  whom  nature  is  dark,  but  who  find  in  the  life 
of  Jesus  Christ  all  that  they  need.     He  is  to  them  the  all 


Chap.  XIV.]  ITS   SEPARATE   PARTS.  311 

in  all,  tlie  True,  the  Holy,  the  express  image  of  the 
Highest.  We  need  not  fear  to  trust  Him.  The  danger 
hitherto  has  been  not  that  we  can  venerate  Him  too 
much,  or  that  we  can  think  of  Him  too  much.  The  er- 
ror of  Christendom  has  far  more  usually  been  that  it  has 
not  thought  of  him  half  enough  —  that  it  has  put  aside 
the  mind  of  Christ,  and  taken  in  place  thereof  the  mind 
of  Augustine,  Aquinas,  Calvin,  great  in  their  way,  —  but 
not  the  mind  of  Him  of  whom  we  read  in  Matthew, 
Mark,  Luke,  and  John.  Or  if  we  should  combine  with 
the  thought  of  Him  the  thought  of  others  foremost  in 
the  religious  history  of  mankind,  v^e  have  His  own  com- 
mand to  do  so,  so  far  as  they  are  the  likenesses  of  Him- 
self, or  so  far  as  they  convey  to  us  any  sense  of  the  un- 
seen world,  or  any  lofty  conception  of  human  character. 
With  the  early  Christian  writers,  we  may  believe  that 
the  Word,  the  Wisdom  of  God  which  appeared  in  its 
perfection  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  had  appeared  in  a  meas- 
ure in  the  examples  of  virtue  and  wisdom  which  had 
been  seen  before  His  coming.  On  the  same  principle  we 
may  apply  this  to  those  who  have  appeared  since.  He 
has  Himself  told  us  that  in  His  true  followers  He  is  w^ith 
mankind  to  the  end  of  the  world.  In  the  holy  life,  in 
the  courageous  act,  in  the  just  law,  is  the  Real  Presence 
of  Christ.  Where  these  are,  in  proportion  as  they  recall 
to  us  His  divine  excellence,  there,  far  more  than  in  any 
consecrated  form  or  symbol,  is  the  true  worship  due  from 
a  Christian  to  his  Master. 

Sometimes,  again,  as  in  the  Epistles,  or  in  our  own  soli- 
tary communing  with  ourselves,  all  outward  manifesta- 
tions of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son,  of  outward  nature  and 
of  Christian  communion,  seem  to  be  withdrawn,  and  the 
eye  of  our  mind  is  fixed  on  the  Spirit  alone.  Our  light 
then  seems  to  come  not  from  without  but  from  within, 
not  from  external  evidence  but  from  inward  conviction. 


312  THE   CREED    OF    THE   EARLY   CHRISTIANS.      [Chap.  XIV. 

That  itself  is  a  divine  revelation.  For  the  Spirit  is  as 
truly  a  manifestation  of  God  as  is  the  Son  or  the  Father. 
The  teaching  of  our  own  heart  and  conscience  is  enough. 
If  we  follow  the  promptings  of  ti-uth  and  purity,  of  jus- 
tice and  Inimility,  sooner  or  later  we  shall  come  back  to 
the  same  Original  Source.  The  witness  of  the  Spirit  of 
all  goodness  is  the  same  as  the  witness  of  the  life  of 
Jesus,  the  same  as  the  witness  of  the  works  of  God  our 
Creator. 

8.  This  distinction,  which  applies  to  particular  wants 
of  the  life  of  each  man,  may  be  especially  traced  in  the 
successive  stages  of  the  spiritual  growth  of  individuals  and 
of  the  human  race  itself.  There  is  a  beautiful  poem  of  a 
gifted  German  poet  of  this  century,  in  which  he  describes 
his  wanderings  in  the  Hartz  Mountains,  and  as  he  rests 
in  the  house  of  a  mountain  peasant,  a  little  child,  the 
daughter  of  the  house,  sits  at  his  feet,  and  looks  up  in  his 
troubled  countenance,  and  asks,  "  Dost  thou  believe  in 
the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost?"  He  makes 
answer  in  words  which  must  be  read  in  the  original  to 
see  their  full  force.  He  says :  "  When  I  sat  as  a  boy  on 
my  mother's  knees,  and  learned  from  her  to  pray,  I  be- 
lieved on  God  the  Father,  who  reigns  aloft  so  great  and 
good,  who  created  the  beautiful  earth  and  the  beautiful 
men  and  women  that  are  upon  it,  who  to  sun  and  moon 
and  stars  foretold  their  appointed  course.  And  when  I 
grew  a  little  older  and  bigger,  then  I  understood  more 
and  more,  then  I  took  in  new  truth  with  my  reason  and 
my  understanding,  and  I  believed  on  the  Son  —  the  well- 
beloved  Son,  who  in  His  love  revealed  to  us  what  love  is, 
and  who  for  His  reward,  as  always  happens,  was  crucified 
by  the  senseless  world.  And  now  that  I  am  grown  up, 
and  that  I  have  read  many  books  and  travelled  in  many 
lands,  my  heart  swells,  and  with  all  my  heart  I  believe 
in  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Spirit  of  God.     It  is  this  Spirit 


Chap.  XIV.]  ITS   INNER   MEANING.  313 

whicli  works  the  greatest  of  miracles,  and  shall  work 
greater  miracles  than  we  have  yet  seen.  It  is  this  Spirit 
which  breaks  down  all  the  strongholds  of  oppression  and 
sets  the  bondsmen  free.  It  is  this  Spirit  which  heals  old 
death-wounds  and  throws  into  the  old  law  new  life. 
Through  this  Spirit  it  is  that  all  men  become  a  race  of 
nobles,  equal  in  the  sight  of  God.  Through  this  Spirit 
are  dispei-sed  the  black  clouds  and  dark  cobwebs  that  be- 
wilder our  hearts  and  brains." 

"A  thousand  knights  in  armor  clad 

Hath  the  Holy  Ghost  ordained, 
All  His  work  and  will  to  do, 

By  His  living  force  sustained. 
Bright  their  swords,  their  banners  bright; 
Who  would  not  be  ranked  a  knight. 

Foremost  in  that  sacred  host? 
Oh,  whate'er  our  race  or  creed, 
May  we  be  such  knights  indeed. 

Soldiers  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

III.  The  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  will  never  cease  to  be  the  chief  expression  of 
Christian  belief,  and  it  has  been  endeavored  to  show 
what  is  the  true  meaning  of  them.  The  words  probably 
from  the  earliest  time  fell  short  of  this  high  signification. 
Even  in  the  Bible  they  needed  all  the  light  which  ex- 
perience could  throw  upon  them  to  suggest  the  full  ex- 
tent of  the  meaning  of  which  they  are  capable.  But  it 
is  believed  that  on  the  whole  they  contain  or  suggest 
thoughts  of  this  kind,  and  that  in  this  development  of 
their  meaning,  more  than  in  the  scholastic  systems  built 
upon  them  or  beside  them,  lies  their  true  vitality. 

"  Apparet  domus  intus,  et  atria  longa  patescunt." 

The  true  interest  of  the  collocation  of  these  three  words 
in  the  Baptismal  formula  instead  of  any  others  that 
might  have  found  a  place  there,  is  not  that  the  Christians 
of  the  second  or  third  century  attached  to  them  their  full 


314         THE  CREED   OF   THE   EARLY   CHRISTIANS.       [Chap.  XIV. 

depth  of  meaning,  but  that  they  are  too  deeply  embedded 
in  the  Bibhcal  records  to  have  been  effaced  in  those  ages 
by  any  heterogeneous  speculation,  and  that,  when  we 
come  to  ask  their  meaning,  they  yield  a  response  which 
the  course  of  time  has  rather  strengthened  than  enfeebled. 
However  trite  and  commonplace  appear  to  us  the  truths 
involved  in  them,  they  were  far  from  obvious  to  those 
early  centuries,  which  worked  upon  them  for  the  most 
part  in  senses  quite  unlike  the  profound  religious  revela- 
tions which  are  becoming  to  us  so  familiar.  And  then 
there  still  remains  the  universal  and  the  deeper  truth 
within.  In  Christianity  nothing  is  of  real  concern  ex- 
cept that  which  makes  us  wiser  and  better  ;  everything 
which  does  make  us  wiser  and  better  is  the  very  thing 
which  Christianity  intends.  Therefore  even  in  these 
three  most  sacred  words  there  is  yet,  besides  all  the  other 
meanings  which  we  have  found  in  them,  the  deepest  and 
most  sacred  meaning  of  all  —  that  which  corresponds  to 
them  in  the  life  of  man.  Many  a  one  has  I'epeated  this 
Sacred  Name,  and  yet  never  fulfilled  in  himself  the 
truths  which  it  conveys.  Some  have  been  unable  to 
repeat  it,  and  yet  have  grasped  the  substance  which 
alone  gives  to  it  a  spiritual  value.  What  John  Bunyan 
said  on  his  death-bed  concerning  prayer  is  equally  true 
of  all  religious  forms  :  "Let  thy  heart  be  without  words 
rather  than  thy  words  without  heart."  Wherever  we 
are  taught  to  know  and  understand  the  real  nature  of  the 
Avorld  in  which  our  lot  is  cast,  there  is  a  testimony,  how- 
ever humble,  to  the  name  of  the  Father  ;  wherever  we 
are  taught  to  know  and  admire  the  highest  and  best  of 
human  excellence,  there  is  a  testimony  to  the  name  of 
the  Son  ;  wherever  we  learn  the  universal  appreciation 
of  such  excellence,  there  is  a  testimony  to  the  name  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   lord's   prayer. 

No  one  doubts  that  the  Lord's  Prayer  entered  into  all 
the  Liturgical  observances  of  the  Early  Church.  No  one 
questions  its  fundamental  value. 

1.  First,  let  us  observe  the  importance  of  having  such  a 
form  at  all  as  the  Lord's  Prayer  left  to  us  by  the  Founder 
of  our  faith.  It  was  said  once  by  a  Scottish  statesman, 
"  Give  to  any  one  you  like  the  making  of  a  nation's  laws 
—  give  me  the  making  of  their  ballads  and  songs,  and 
that  will  tell  us  the  mind  of  the  nation."  So  it  might 
be  said,  "  Give  to  any  one  you  like  the  making  of  a 
Church's  creed  —  or  a  Church's  decrees  or  rubrics  — 
give  me  the  making  of  its  prayers,  and  that  will  tell  us 
the  mind  of  the  Church  or  religious  community."  We 
have  in  this  Prayer  the  one  public  universal  prayer  of 
Christendom.  It  contains  the  purest  wishes,  the  high- 
est hopes,  the  tenderest  aspirations  which  our  Master  put 
into  the  mouths  of  His  followers.  It  is  the  rule  of  our 
worship,  the  guide  of  our  inmost  thoughts.  This  prayer 
on  the  whole  has  been  accepted  by  all  the  Churches  of 
the  world.  In  the  English  Liturgy  it  is  repeated  in 
every  single  service  —  too  often  for  purposes  of  edifica- 
tion. The  reason  evidently  is  because  it  was  thought 
that  no  service  could  be  complete  without  it.  This  is  the 
excuse  for  what  otherwise  would  seem  to  be  a  vain  repe- 
tition. Again,  it  is  used  so  frequently  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  that  its  two  first  words  have  almost 
passed  into  a  name  for  a  prayer  generally  —  Pater  No8- 


316  TEZ  17  :^  XV 

-.  .  -Li  L    5:1  :  Father."     I 

i  into  abnoe: 
m  times,    -r 

i.    and    L:  -^    _  -  : 

However  giear  may  be  the  scmr 

e  tliis  piajer.  T_  r  - 
cietT  oi  Fnends  is  probablr  the  wily  exceptifflu  What- 
CTer  may  be  t^  ease  witii  other  f<vma]ariTS  r  :e- 
cfaisraa,  this  afc  least  is  not  a  distinctive  form:ii  :s 

common  to  the  wh<^  <^  Christcsdom  —  nay,  i^ 
see,  it  is  common   to  the  whide  of  mankind.     Lu:_rr 
calb  it  ~  the  Prayer  of  Prayers."     Baxter  537?.  -  The 
Lord's  Prayer,  with  the  Creed  and  Ten  C:     :  ts, 

the  older  I  grew,  famished  me  with  a  — :  ' 
aeoeptaUe  matt^  for  all  my  meditar 
Logfaton,   the  (Hily  man  who  was  a.  m 

joining  togeth  r  :j.r  t^  jrches  of  Eng-  :M-:i^:irKi, 

was,  we  are  :  1  ^ .     -^t:     _>  Tsrtisl  tc  i"?  Prs-rer, 

and  said  of  it,  "  Oh.  te  .  ^e 

rare  Christians.''    B :  - 
divines,  and  Channir  _    ^t 

divines,  both  r^eated  it  on  th^  is.     Cfaanning 

sud,  **  TTiis  is  the  perfection  of  :  -  religion.'' 

BossQ^  said.  >*  Let  os  read  uid      -  ssan^  the 

Lord's  Prayer.  It  is  the  true  prayer  of  Christiaiis,  and 
the  most  p^ect,  iar  it  contains  alL*'  Chi  the  day  of  his 
execntkm  it  was  repeated  by  Count  E^mont,  leadn*  ci. 
the  insurrection  in  the  Xetheriands.  On  the  day  <^  his 
mortal  illneas  it  summed  np  the  devotioos  of  the  Bm- 
perw  Nidicdas  <^  Russia.  Even  those  who  knew  nothing 
aboat  it  have  a^nowledged  its  excellence.  A  French 
coonteas  read  this  prayer  to  her  onbdieving  hnsband  in 
a  dai^ooos  illne^.  **  Say  that  again,'"  he  said,  ^^  it  is  a 
beantifal  pray»-.     Who  made  it  ?  " 


Chap.  XV.]  ITS   OUTWARD   SHAPE.  317 

2.  Again,  in  the  Early  Church  it  was  the  only  set  form 
of  Liturgy.  It  was,  so  to  speak,  the  whole  Liturgy ;  it 
was  the  only  set  form  of  prayer  then  used  in  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  Holy  Communion.  Whatever  other  prayers 
were  used  were  offered  up  according  to  the  capacity  and 
choice  of  the  minister.^  But  there  was  one  prayer  fixed 
and  universal,  and  that  was  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The 
Clementine  Liturgy  alone  omits  it.  From  that  unique 
position  it  has  been  gradually  pushed  aside  by  moie 
modern  prayers.  But  the  recollection  of  its  ancient  pre- 
eminent dignity  is  still  retained  in  the  older  liturgies  by 
its  following  immediately  after  the  consecration  prayer  ; 
and  in  the  modern  English  Liturgy,  although  it  has  been 
yet  further  removed,  yet  its  high  importance  in  the  ser- 
vice is  indicated  by  its  being  used  twice  —  once  at  the 
commencement  and  immediately  after  the  administration. 
Whenever  we  so  hear  it  read  we  are  reminded  of  its 
original  grandeur  as  the  root  of  all  liturgical  eucharistic 
services  everywhere.  It  is  an  indication  partly  of  the 
immense  change  which  has  taken  place  in  all  liturgies  : 
it  shows  how  far  even  the  most  ancient  that  exist  have 
departed  from  their  original  form.  But  it  reminds  us 
also  what  is  the  substance  of  the  whole  Communion 
service ;  what  is  the  spirit  by  which  and  in  which  alone 
the  blessings  of  that  service  can  be  received. 

3.  And  now  let  us  look  at  its  outward  shape.  What 
do  we  learn  from  this  ?  We  may  infer  from  the  oc- 
currence of  an}'  form  at  all  in  the  teaching  of  Christ 
that  set  forms  of  prayer  are  not  in  themselves  wrong. 
He,  when  He  was  asked  by  His  disciples,  "  Teach  us  to 
pray,"  did  not  say,  as  He  might  have  done,  "  Never  use 
any  form  of  words  —  wait  till  the  Spirit  moves  you  — 
take  no  thought  how  you  shall  speak,  for  it  shall  be 
given   you  in  the  same  hour  what  you  should  speak  — 

1  See  Chapter  III. 


318  THE   lord's    prayer.  [Chap.  XV. 

'  out  of  the  abundance  of  your  heart  j^our  mouth  shall 
speak.'  "  There  are  times  when  He  did  so  speak.  But 
at  any  rate  on  two  occasions  He  is  reported  to  have  given 
a  fixed  form  of  words.  But  as  He  gave  a  fixed  form,  so 
neither  did  He  bind  His  disciples  to  every  word  of  it  al- 
ways and  exclusively.  He  did  not  say,  "  In  these  words 
pray  ye,"  but  on  one  occasion,  "  After  this  manner  pray 
ye."  And  as  if  to  bring  out  still  more  distinctly  that 
even  in  this  most  sacred  of  all  praj'ers  it  is  the  spirit 
and  not  the  letter  that  is  of  any  avail,  there  are  two 
separate  forms  of  it  given  in  the  Gospels  according  to 
St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke,  which,  though  the  same  in 
substance,  differ  much  in  detail.  "  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread  "  it  is  in  St.  Matthew  ;  "  Give  us  day  by 
day  our  daily  bread  "  it  is  in  St  Luke.  "  Forgive  us 
our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,"  it  is  in  St.  Mat- 
thew ;  "  Forgive  us  our  sins  ;  for  we  also  forgive  every 
one  that  is  indebted  to  us,"  it  is  in  St.  Luke.  And  yet, 
besides,  it  may  be  observed  that  there  is  a  still  further 
variation  in  the  Lord's  Prayer  as  we  read  it  in  the  Eng- 
lish Liturgy  from  the  form  in  which  we  read  it  in  the 
Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible  —  "Forgive  us  our 
trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us," 
is  a  petition  that  is  the  same  in  sense  but  different  in 
words  from  what  it  is  either  in  St.  Matthew  or  St. 
Luke.  And  again,  what  we  call  the  doxology  at  the 
end,  "  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the 
glory,"  is  not  found  at  all  in  St.  Luke,  nor  in  the  oldest 
manuscripts  of  St.  Matthew,  and  is  never  used  at  all  in 
the  oldest  Churches  of  Europe.  The  Roman  Catholic 
Church  absolutely  rejects  it.  The  Greek  reads  it  but 
not  as  part  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  Pope,  the  Roman 
Catholic  poet,  imagined  that  it  was  written  by  Luther. 
All  these  variations  show  the  difference  between  the 
spirit   and   the    substance,   between    the    form    and   the 


Chap.  XV.]  ITS    ORIGIN.  319 

letter.  The  Lord's  Prayer  is  often  repeated  merely  by 
rote,  and  has  often  been  used  superstitiously  as  a  charm. 
These  slight  variations  are  the  best  proofs  that  this  for- 
mal repetition  is  not  the  use  for  which  it  was  intended. 
In  order  to  pray  as  Jesus  Christ  taught  us  to  pray  we 
must  pray  with  the  understanding  as  well  as  with  the 
spirit  —  with  the  spirit  and  heart  as  well  as  with  the 
lips.  Prayer  in  its  inferior  form  becomes  merely  me- 
chanical; but  in  its  most  perfect  form  it  requires  the 
exercise  of  the  reason  and  understanding.  This  distinc- 
tion is  the  salt  which  saves  all  prayers  and  all  religions 
whatever  from  corruption. 

4.  There  is  yet  a  further  lesson  to  be  learned  from 
the  general  form  and  substance  of  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
Whence  did  it  come  ?  What,  so  to  speak,  was  the 
quarry  out  of  which  it  was  hewn  ?  It  might  have  been 
entirely  fresh  and  new.  It  might  have  been  brought 
out  for  the  first  time  by  "  Him  who  spake  as  never  man 
sjiake."  And  in  a  certain  sense  this  was  so.  As  a 
whole  it  is  entirely  new.  It  is,  taking  it  from  first  to 
last,  what  it  is  truly  called,  "  the  Lord's  Prayer"  — the 
Prayer  of  our  Lord,  and  of  no  one  else.  But  if  we  take 
each  clause  and  word  by  itself  it  has  often  been  ob- 
served by  scholars  that  they  are  in  part  taken  from  the 
writings  of  the  Jewish  Rabbis.  It  was  an  exaggeration 
of  Wetstein  when  he  said,  "  Tota  h^ec  oratio  ex  formulis 
Hebrseorum  concinnata  est."  But  certainly  in  the  first 
two  petitions  there  are  strong  resemblances.  "  Every 
scribe,"  said  our  Lord,  "  bringeth  forth  out  of  his  treas- 
ury things  new  and  old."  And  that  is  exactly  what  He 
did  Himself  in  this  famous  prayer.  Something  like  at 
least  to  those  familiar  petitions  exists  in  some  hole  or 
corner  of  Jewish  liturgies.  It  was  reserved  for  the 
Divine  Master  to  draw  them  forth  from  darkness  into 
light,  and  speak  out  on  the  housetop  what  was  formerly 


320  THE   lord's   prayer.  [Chap.  XV. 

whispered  in  the  scholar's  closet  —  to  string  together  in 
one  continuous  garland  the  pearls  of  great  price  that 
had  been  scattered  here  and  there,  disjointed  and  di- 
vided. We  learn  from  this  the  value  of  selection,  dis- 
crimination of  stud}',  in  the  choice  of  our  materials  of 
knowledge,  whether  divine  or  human,  and  especially  of 
our  devotion.  We  are  not  to  think  that  a  saying,  or 
truth,  or  prayer  is  less  divine  because  it  is  found  out- 
side the  Bible.  We  are  not  to  think  that  anything  good 
in  itself  is  less  good  because  it  comes  from  a  rabbinical 
or  heathen  source. 

5.  Observe  its  brevity.  It  is  indeed  a  comment  upon 
the  saying,  "  God  is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth  ; 
therefore  let  thy  words  be  few."  No  doubt  very  often 
we  pray  in  forms  much  longer  than  this  ;  but  the  short- 
ness of  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  compatible  with  its  being 
the  most  excellent  of  all  prayers,  and  with  compressing 
our  devotion  into  the  briefest  compass.  In  fact  the  occa- 
sion on  which  it  is  introduced  lays  the  chief  stress  on  its 
shortness.  It  was  first  taught  in  express  contrast  to  the 
long  repetitions  of  the  heathen  religions.  "  They  think 
that  they  shall  be  heard  for  their  much  speaking.  Be 
not  ye  therefore  like  unto  them,  for  your  Father  knoweth 
what  things  ye  have  need  of  before  ye  ask  Him.  After 
this  manner  therefore  pray  ye."  Every  one,  however 
difficult  he  may  find  it  to  make  long  prayers,  however 
pressing  his  business  may  be,  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
may  have  time  for  this  very  short  prayer.  How  long 
does  it  take?  One  minute.  How  many  sentences  does 
it  contain  ?  Seven.  The  youngest  as  well  as  the  oldest 
—  the  busiest  as  well  as  the  idlest  —  the  most  sceptical 
as  well  as  the  most  devout  —  can  at  least  in  the  day 
once  or  twice,  if  not  in  the  early  morning  or  the  late 
evening,  use  this  short  prayer.  There  is  nothing  in  it 
to  offend.     They  who   scruple  or  who  throw   aside  the 


Chap.  XV.]  ITS   CONTENTS.  321 

Prayer  Book,  or  the  Directory,  or  the  Catechism,  or  the 
Creetl,  at  least  may  say  tlie  Lord's  Prayer.  They  can- 
not be  the  worse  for  it.     They  may  be  the  better. 

6.  And  now  k^t  us  look  upon  the  substance  of  the  sen- 
tences as  they  follow  one  another.  We  have  said  that  a 
nation's  religious  life  may  be  judged  by  its  chief  prayers. 
For  example,  the  Mohammedan  religion  may  fairly 
claim  to  be  represented  by  the  one  prayer  that  every 
Alussulman  offers  to  God  morning  and  eveniug.  It  is 
in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Koran,  and  it  is  this  :  — 

"  Praise  be  to  God,  Master  of  the  Universe, 
The  Merciful,  the  Compassionate, 
Lord  of  the  day  of  Judgment. 
To  Thee  we  give  our  worship, 
From  Thee  we  have  our  help. 
Guide  us  in  the  right  way, 

In  the  vfny  of  those  whom  Thou  hast  loaded  with  Thy  blessing, 
Not  in  the  way  of  those  who  have  encountered  Thy  wrath,  or  who  have  gone 
astray." 

Let  us  not  despise  that  prayer — so  humble,  so  simple, 
so  true.  Let  us  rather  be  thankful  that  from  so  many 
devout  hearts  throughout  the  Eastern  world  there  as- 
cends so  pure  an  offering  to  the  Most  High  God.  Yet 
surely  we  may  say  in  no  proud  or  Pharisaic  spirit  that, 
compared  even  with  this  exalted  prayer  of  the  Arabian 
Prophet,  there  is  a  richness,  a  fulness,  a  height  of  hope, 
a  depth  of  humility,  a  breadth  of  meaning  in  the  prayer 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  which  we  find  nowhere  else,  which 
stamps  it  with  a  divinity  all  its  own. 

"  Our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven."  Our 
Father,  not  mij  Fathei-.  He  is  the  God  not  of  one  man, 
or  one  church,  or  one  nation,  or  one  race  only — but  of 
all  who  can  raise  their  thoughts  towards  Him.  Father. 
That  is  the  most  human,  most  personal,  most  loving 
thought  which  we  can  frame  in  speaking  of  the  Su- 
preme Being.  And  yet  He  is  IN  Heaven.  That  is  the 
most  remote,   the  most  spiritual,   the    most  impersonal 

21 


322  THE   lord's   prayer.  [Chap.  XV. 

thought  which  we  can  frame  concerning  Him.     Heaven 
is  a  word  which  expresses  the   ideal,  the  unseen  world, 
and    there  infinitely  raised    above  us  all  is  the  Father 
whom  we  adore.     "  Hallowed  be  Thy  name."     That 
is  the  hope  that  all  levity,  that  all  profaneness  may  be 
banished   from  the  worsliip  of  God  ;  not  only  that  our 
worship  may  be  simple,  solemn,  and  reverent,  but  that 
our  thoughts  concerning  Him   may  be  consecrated  and 
set  apart  from  aU  the  low,  debasing,  superstitious,  selfish 
ends  to  which  His  name  has  so  often  been  turned.     "  O 
Liberty,"  it  was  once  said,  "  how  many  are  the  crimes 
that  have  been  committed  in  thy  name  !  "     "  O  Relig- 
ion," so  we  may  also  say  when  we  repeat  this  clause  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  "  how  many  are  the  crimes  that  have 
been  committed  in   thy  name  !  "     Ma.j  that  holy  name 
be  hallowed  bj^  the  acts  and  words  of  those  who  profess 
it!     "Thy  KINGDOM  COME."     This  is  the  highest  hope 
of  humanity  :  that  the  rule  of  supreme  truth,  and  mercy, 
and  justice,  and  beauty,  may  penetrate  every  province  of 
thought,  and  action,  and  law,  and  art.     It  has  been  said 
there  are  some  places  on  earth  where  we  have  to  think 
what  is  the  one  single  prayer  which  we  should  utter  if 
we  were  sure  of  its  being  fulfilled.    This  would  be,  "  Thy 
kingdom  come."     "  Thy  will  be  done."     That  is  the 
expression   of  our  entire   resignation  to   whatever  shall 
year  by  year,  and   day  by  day  befall  us.     Resignation 
which  shall  calm  our  passions,  and  control  our  murmurs, 
and  curtail   our  griefs,  and  kindle  our  cheerfulness.     It 
is,  as    Bishop  Butler    has    said,    the    whole    of  religion. 
Islam  derives  its  name  from  it.     "  In  earth  AS  it  is 
IN  heaven.''     These  are  words  which  lift  our  souls  up 
from  the  world  in  which  we   struggle  with  manifold  im- 
perfections   to   the   ideal  heavenly   world,    where   all    is 
perfect.    Party  strife  —  crooked  ends  —  ignominious  flat- 
teries—  are  they  necessary  ?     Let  us  hope  that  a  time 


Chap.  XV.]  ITS   CONTENTS.  323 

may  come  when  they  will  be  unnecessary.  "  Give  us 
THIS  DAY  OUR  DAILY  BREAD."  Here  we  turn  from 
heaven  back  to  earth,  and  ask  for  our  needful  food,  our 
enjoyment,  our  sustenance  from  day  to  day.  It  is  the 
one  petition  for  our  earthly  wants.  We  know  not  what 
a  day  may  bring  forth.  Give  us  only,  give  ns  at  least 
what  we  need,  of  sustenance  both  for  body  and  soul. 
"  Enough  is  enough  "  —  ask  not  for  more.^  "  Enough 
for  our  faith,  enough  for  our  maintenance  when  the  sun 
dawns  and  before  the  sun  sets."  "  FoRGlVE  US  OUR 
TRESPASSES  AS  WE  FORGIVE  THEM  THAT  TRESPASS 
AGAINST  US."  Who  is  there  that  has  not  need  to  forgive 
some  one  —  who  is  there  that  has  not  the  need  of  some- 
thing to  be  forgiven  ?  The  founder  of  Georgia  said  to 
the  founder  of  Methodism,  "  I  never  forgive  any  one." 
John  Wesley  answered,  "  Sir,  I  trust  you  never  sin." 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  The  temptations 
which  beset  us.  How  much  of  sin  comes  from  the  out- 
ward incidents  and  companionships  round  us !  How 
much  of  innocence  from  that  good  Providence  which 
wards  off  the  corrupting,  defiling,  debasing  influences 
that  fill  the  earth  !  Save  us,  we  may  well  ask,  from  the 
circumstances  of  our  age,  our  country,  our  church,  our 
profession,  our  character  ;  save  us  from  those  circum- 
stances which  di'aw  forth  our  natural  infirmities  —  save 
us  from  these,  break  their  force.  And  this  is  best  ac- 
complished by  the  last  petition,  "  Deliver  us  from 
EVIL  ;  "  that  is,  deliver  us  from  the  evil,^  whatsoever  it 
is,  that  lurks  even  in  the  best  of  good  things.  From  the 
idleness  that  grows  out  of  youth  and  fulness  of  bread 
—  from  the  party  spirit  that  grows  out  of  our  political 
enthusiasm  or  our  nobler  ambition  —  fi'om  the  fanatical 

1  See  Bishop  Lightfoot's  treatise  on  the  word  en-touo-ios. 
•    2    iTTo  Tov  TTovripov,   "the  evil,"  not  "the  Evil  One."     So  it  must  be  trans- 
lated in  Matt.  v.  37,  39,  as  well  as  in  Matt.  vi.  13. 


324  THE   lord's   prayer.  [Chap.  XV. 

narrowness  ■wliich  goes  hand  in  band  with  our  religious 
earnestness  —  from  the  harshness  wliich  clino-s  to  our  love 
of  truth  —  from  the  indifference  which  results  from  our 
wide  toleration  —  from  the  indecision  which  intrudes 
itself  into  our  careful  discrimination  —  from  the  folly  of 
the  good,  and  from  the  selfishness  of  the  wise,  Good 
Lord  deliver  us.  "FoK  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and 
THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOR  EVER  AND  EVER, 
AMEN."  So  Christendom'  has  added  its  ratification  to 
the  words  of  Christ.  It  is  the  thankfulness  which  we  all 
feel  for  the  majesty  and  thought  and  beauty  which  our 
heavenly  Father  has  shown  to  us  in  the  paths  of  nature 
or  in  the  greatness  of  man. 

We  have  thus  briefly  traversed  these  petitions.  When 
our  Lord's  disciples  came  and  asked  for  a  form  of  prayer, 
itscoDciu-  ^^ot  '^^  John's  disciples  had  received  from  their 
"°"'  master,  they  thought,  no  doubt,  that  He  would 

give  them  something  peculiar  to  themselves  —  something 
that  no  one  else  could  use.  They  little  knew  what  the 
peculiarity,  the  singularity  "of  their  Master's  Prayer 
would  be  —  that  it  was  one  that  might  be  used  by 
every  church,  by  every  sect,  by  every  nation,  by  every 
member  of  the  human  family.  It  is  possible  that  some 
may  be  inclined  to  complain  of  this  extreme  compi'ehen- 
siveness  and  indefiniteness,  and  to  say  there  is  something 
here  which  falls  short  of  flie  promise  in  St.  John's  Gos- 
pel. "  If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  My  name  I  will  do 
it."  But  the  answer  is  that  here,  as  before,  this  prayer 
is  a  striking  example  of  the  greatness  of  the  spirit  above 
the  letter.  In  the  letter  it  does  not  begin  or  end  in  the 
actual  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  That  familiar  termination 
which  to  our  ears  has  become  almost  the  necessary  end- 
ing to  every  prayer,  and  which  is  used  in  ever}'  church, 
whether  Unitarian  or  Trinitarian,  is  not  here.  We  do 
not  close  our  Lord's   prayer  with  the  words  "  through 


Chap.  XV.]  ITS    CONTENTS.  325 

Jesus  Clu-ist  our  Lord."  We  do  not  invoke  tlie  holy 
name  of  Jesus  either  at  the  besfinnintj  or  end.  But  not 
the  less  is  it  in  the  fullest  sense  a  prayer  in  the  name  of 
Christ.  In  the  name  of  Christ,  that  is  (taking  these 
words  in  their  Biblical  sense),  "in  the  spirit  of  Christ," 
"  according  to  the  nature  and  the  will  of  Christ,"  copy- 
ing from  the  lips  of  Christ,  adopted  as  His  one  formulary 
of  faith  at  His  express  commandment.  In  this  true 
meaning  of  the  words  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  more  the 
Prayer  of  our  Lord,  is  more  entirely  filled  with  the  name 
and  spirii  of  Christ,  than  if  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  were  repeated  a  hundred  times  over.  In  Pope's 
»  Universal  Praj-er  there  is  much  which  is  condemned  by 
religious  persons,  and  we  do  not  undertake  to  defend  the 
taste  or  the  sentiment  of  it  in  every  part.  But  assuredly 
that  which  is  its  chief  characteristic,  its  universality,  is 
exactl}'  in  spirit  that  which  belongs  to  the  prayer  of 
Christ.     It  is  expressed  in  those  well-known  words  :  — 

"  Father  of  all  I  in  every  age, 
In  ever}'  clime  ador'd, 
By  saint,  bj'  savage,  or  by  sage, 
Jeliovah,  Jove,  or  Lord." 

It  is  this  very  characteristic  of  the  prayer  which  makes 
it  to  be  in  His  name.  It  is  this  very  universality  which 
overflows  with  Himself,  and  which  makes  the  prayer  of 
the  philosopher  to  be  a  paraphrase  of  His  Prayer.  He  is 
in  every  syllable  of  this  sacred  formula,  as  He  is  not 
equally  in  any  other  formula.  He  is  in  the  whole  of  it, 
and  in  all  its  parts.  Of  these,  the  most  sacred  of  all  the 
words  that  He  has  given  us,  it  is  true  what  He  said  of 
all  His  words  —  they  are  not  mere  words,  they  are  spirit 
and  they  are  life. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    COUNCIL   AND    CREED    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE. 

It  may  be  interesting  in  connection  with  the  history  of 
the  early  Creeds  to  add  an  account  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  came  into  existence.  Of  the  Apostles' 
Creed  we  have  already  spoken. ^  The  Nicene  Creed  was 
the  result  of  the  Council  of  Nicsea,  and  this,  though  in  a 
form  totally  different  from  that  which  now  bears  the 
name,  is  the  original  Creed  of  the  Empire,  and  its  for- 
mation has  been  described  in  the  "  Lectures  on  the  East- 
ern Church."^  The  Athanasian  Creed  is  of  much  later 
date,  and  has  also  been  the  subject  of  a  separate  treat- 
ise.^ Thei'e  remains  therefore  only  the  Creed  commonly 
called  the  Creed  of  Constantinople,  which  is  now  adopted 
by  the  Churches  of  Rome  and  England,  and  the  Luth- 
eran Churches,  and  through  the  whole  of  the  Eastern 
Church,  with  the  exception  of  the  Coptic,  Nestorian,  and 
Armenian  branches.  In  order  to  do  this,  it  will  be  nec- 
essary to  describe  the  Council,  with  which  its  composition 
is  traditionally  connected,  the  more  so  as  the  assembly 
has  never  yet  been  adequately  portrayed.  After  this  de- 
scription it  will  be  our  object  to  examine  into  the  nature 
and  pretensions  of  the  Creed  which  is  usually  supposed 
to  have  sprung  out  of  it. 

The  city  of  Constantinople  had  been  *  almost  ever  since 

1  Lecture  XIIL  2  Lectures  on  the  Eastern  Church,  Lecture  iv. 

3  The  Athanasian  Creed,  with  a  Preface. 

*  The  usual  authorities  which  describe  the  Council  are  the  ecclesiastical  histo- 
rians of  the  following  century  —  Socrates,  Sozomen,  Theodoret.  But  far  more 
important  than  these  are  the  letters,  orations,  and  autobiographical  poems  of 


Chap.  XVI.]  GREGORY   NAZIANZEN.  327 

the  Council  of  Nicaea  in  the  hands  of  the  great  party 
which  was  called  by  the  name  of  the  heresiarch  Arius,  and 
which  embraced  all  the  princes  of  the  Imperial  House 
from  Constantine  the  Great  to  Valens  (with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  "  apostate  "  Julian),  as  well  as  the  Gothic  tribes 
on  the  frontier.  But  the  "  orthodox  "  or  so  called  "  Cath- 
olic "  party,  to  which  the  name  of  Athanasius  still  gave 
life,  struggled  on  ;  and  when  the  rude  Spanish  soldier 
Theodositts  restored  peace  to  the  Empire,  his  known  opin- 
ions in  favor  of  the  orthodox  doctinne  gave  a  hope  of  re- 
turning strength  to  the  cause  which  had  vanquished  at 
Nicgea.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  little  community 
which  professed  the  Athanasian  belief  at  Constantinople 
determined  on  the  step  of  calling  to  their  assistance  one 
of  the  leaders  of  those  opinions  from  the  adjacent  prov- 
ince of  Asia  Minor.  Basil  would  have  been  the  natural 
choice  ;  but  his  age  and  infirmities  rendered  this  impos- 
sible. Accordingly,  they  fixed  on  Gregory,  commonly 
called  "  of  Nazianzus."  Unlike  the  school  in  Qregory 
the  English  Church  which,  in  the  time  of  the  Nazianzen. 
Nonjurors,  and  afterwards,  sanctions  the  intrusion  of  new 
bishops  into  places  already  preoccupied  by  lawful  pre- 
lates, the  orthodox  community  at  Constantinople  showed 
a  laudable  moderation.  Gregory  was  already  a  bishop, 
but  a  bishop  without  a  diocese.  Appointed  to  the  see  of 
Sasima,  he  had  never  undertaken  its  duties,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  helping  his  aged  father  in  the  bish- 
opric of  his  birthplace  Nazianzus.  Accordingly  he  was 
ready  to  the  hands  of  the  minority  of  the  Church  of  By- 
zantium, without  any  direct  infi-ingement  of  the  rights 
and  titles  of  Demophilus,  the  lawful  bishop  of  Constanti- 
nople. 

Gregory  Nazianzen,  who  was  not  only  a  contemporary,  but  an  eye-witness  of 
most  of  what  he  describes.  We  must  add  from  modern  times  the  learned  Tille- 
mont  the  exact  Hefele,  and  the  elaborate  and  for  the  most  part  impartial  naiTa- 
tire  of  the  Due  de  Broglie,  all  of  them  belonging  to  the  more  moderate  school 
of  the  Roman  Church. 


328  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.        [Chap.  XVL 

He  came  from  his  rustic  retreat  reluctantly.  He  w.is 
prematurely  old  and  infirm.  His  bald  head  streaked 
with  a  few  white  hairs,  and  his  bent  figure,  were  not  cal- 
culated to  command  attention.  He  was  retiring,  suscep- 
tible, and,  in  liis  manners,  simple  to  a  fault.  It  is  this 
contrast  with  the  position  which  was  forced  upon  him 
that  gives  the  main  interest  to  the  curious  cycle  of  events 
of  which  he  thus  became  the  centre. 

Constantinople  was  crowded  with  the  heads  of  the  dif- 
ferent ecclesiastical  parties,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
new  Emperor.  There  were  the  Arian  bishops  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Imperial  sees.  There  were  the  semi-Arians, 
who  by  very  slight  concessions  on  both  sides  might  be 
easily  included  in  the  orthodox  community.  There  were 
the  liberal  Catholics,  Avho  were  eager  to  grant  such  con- 
cessions. There  were  the  Puritan  Catholics,  who  rigidly 
spurned  all  compromise.  With  these  divisions  there  was 
a  vast  society,  hardly  less  civilized,  less  frivolous,  less  com- 
plex, than  that  of  our  great  capitals  now,  entering  into 
those  abstract  theological  questions  as  keenly  as  our  met- 
ropolitan circles  into  the  political  or  ecclesiastical  disputes 
which  form  the  materials  of  conversation  at  the  dinner- 
tables  of  London  or  the  saloons  of  Paris.  Everywhere  in 
that  new  capital  of  the  world  —  at  the  races  of  the  Hip- 
podrome, at  the  theatres,  at  feasts,  in  debauches,^  the 
most  sacred  names  were  bandied  to  and  fro  in  eager  dis- 
putation. Every  corner,  every  alley  of  the  city,  the 
streets,  the  markets,  the  drapers'  shops,  the  tables  of 
moneychangers  and  of  victuallers,  were  crowded  with 
these  "  off-hand  dogmatizers."  ^  If  a  trader  was  asked 
the  cost  of  such  an  article,  he  answered  by  philosophizing 
on  generated  and  ungenerated  being.  If  a  stranger  in- 
quired the  price  of  bread,  he  was  told  "the  Sou  is  subor- 

1  Gregory  Naz.  Or.  22-27. 

2  aiiTocrxeSioi  SoyjixaTtaTat.     Gregory  Nvssa,  De  Deitate  Filii,  vol.  ii.  p.  808. 


Chap.  XVL]  GREGORY   NAZIANZEN.  329 

dinate  to  the  Father."     If  a  traveller  asked   whether  his 
bath  was  ready,  he  was  told  "  the  Son  arose  out  of  noth- 

ing." 

The  shyness  as  well  as  the  piety  of  Gregory  led  him  to 
confine  his  appearance  in  public  to  the  pulpit.  So  com- 
pletely had  the  orthodox  party  been  dejDressed,  that  they 
had  no  church  to  offer  him  for  his  ministrations.  They 
went  back  for  the  moment  to  the  custom  which,  begin- 
ning at  or  before  the  first  conversion  of  the  Empire,  was 
in  fact  the  origin  of  all  the  early  Christian  churches. 
Every  great  Roman  house  had  attached  to  it  a  hall, 
which  was  used  by  its  owner  for  purposes  of  justice  or  of 
public  assemblies,  and  bore  (at  least  in  Rome)  the  name 
of  "  basilica."  ^  Such  a  hall  was  employed  by  Gregory 
on  this  occasion  in  the  house  where  he  had  taken  up  his 
quarters.  An  extempore  altar  was  raised,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  the  ancient  Eastern  pi'actice  of  separating  the 
sexes,  a  gallery  was  erected  for  the  women,  such  as  on  a 
gigantic  scale  still  exists  in  the  Church  of  St.  Sophiii ; 
showing  at  once  the  importance  of  the  female  element  in 
these  Byzantine  congregations,  and  also  the  prominence 
given  to  an  element  in  ecclesiastical  architecture  which  is 
regarded  by  modern  ecclesiologists  as  utterly  incongruous. 
To  this  extemporized  chapel  he  gave  the  name  of  the 
Anastasia,  or  Church  of  the  Resurrection  or  Revival ;  in  ^ 
allusion  to  the  resurrection,  as  he  hoped,  of  the  orthodox 
party  in  the  Church,  much  as  Nonconformists  gave  to 
their  places  of  worship  the  names,  not  of  the  ancient 
saints,  but  of  such  events,  or  symbols,  as  seemed  to  indi- 
cate their  solitary  position  in  a  corrupt  world  or  church 

1  See  Chapter  IX. 

2  It  furnishes  a  curious  example  of  the  growth  of  a  legend  from  a  name.  Soc- 
rates records  the  miracle  of  a  woman  falling  from  the  gallery  without  injury  to 
life,  as  the  origin  of  the  title.  As  we  know  the  real  meaning  of  the  name,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  reverse  is  the  true  account  of  the  matter.  A  Novatian  chapel 
had  borne  the  same  name  for  the  .»ame  reason. 


330  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.      [Chap.  XVI. 

—  Ebenezer^  "  the  stone  of  help  ;  "  Bethesda,  "  the  house 
of  help."  The  building  was  soon  crowded  ;  the  crush  at 
the  entrance  was  often  terrific ;  the  rails  of  the  chancel 
were  broken  down  ;  the  congregation  frequently  burst  out 
into  loud  applause.  It  required  a  more  than  mortal  not 
to  be  touchea  and  elated  by  these  signs  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  his  oratory.  As  the  aged  Wilberforce  used 
long  after  his  retirement  from  public  life  to  recall  the  re- 
sults of  his  eloquence  in  the  House  of  Couimons —  "  Oh  ! 
those  cheers,  tliose  delightful  cheers !  "  so  Gregory,  years 
afterwards,  used  to  be  visited  in  his  solitary  dreams  by 
visions  of  his  beloved  Ana  stasia  ;  the  church  brilliantly  il- 
luminated ;  himself,  after  the  manner  of  the  ancient  bish- 
ops, aloft  on  his  throne  at  the  eastern  end,  the  presbyters 
round  him,  and  the  deacons  in  their  white  robes  below  ; 
the  crowd  thronging  the  church,  every  eye  fixed  on  him  ; 
the  congregation  sometimes  wrapt  in  profound  silence, 
sometimes  breaking  out  into  loud  shouts  of  approbation. 
But  these  bright  days  were  destined  to  have  a  sad 
morrow.  The  sermons,  which  consisted  usually  of  ab- 
stract disquisitions  on  the  disputed  doctrines,  but  some- 
times of  counsels  towards  moderation,  veiled  under  a 
eulogy  of  the  great  Athanasius,^  provoked  the  jealousy 
or  hostility  of  the  opposite  party,  or  perhaps  of  the  more 
zealous  members  of  his  own.  On  one  occasion  a  body  of 
drunken  artisans  broke  into  the  church,  accompanied  by 
an  army  of  beggars,  of  furious  nuns,^  and,  the  usual  ac- 
companiment of  riots  at  that  time,  ferocious  monks.  A 
violent  conflict  ensued  —  some  of  the  priests  and  neo- 
phytes were  wounded.  The  police  hesitated  to  interfere  — 
ostensibly  on  the  ground  that  it  was  impossible  to  decide 


1  This  is  tlie  date  of  the  oration  on  Athanasius,  according  to  M.  de  Broglie. 

3  M.  de  Broglie  says  "des  femmes  dc^'bauch^es."  But  it  is  clear  from  Greg- 
ory's account  (O/-.  xxiii.  5,  XXXV.  3;  Ep.  77;  Carm.  de  Vita  Sua,  660,  670), 
that  they  were  the  nuns  or  consecrated  virgins. 


Chap.  XVI.]  MAXIMUS.  331 

which  were  the  assailed  and  which  the  assailants.  Greg- 
ory, with  a  questionable  prudence,  had  surrounded  him- 
self with  a  body  of  orthodox  fanatics,  with  whom  he  had 
but  little  sympathy,  and  whose  hostility  to  the  modera- 
tion of  the  venerable  Basil  might  have  well  roused  his 
suspicion.  They  slept  in  his  house,  they  assisted  him  in 
preparing  his  sermons,  they  formed  a  guard  about  him  in 
these  tumults.  One  of  them  was  no  less  a  person  than 
the  youthful  Jerome,  then  on  his  way  from  the  farther 
East,  whose  fierce  and  acrid  temper  rendered  him  a 
staunch  but  perilous  friend,  and  who  lost  no  occasion  of 
expressing  his  admiration  of  Gregory  —  his  "  beloved 
master,"  "to  whom  there  was  no  equal  in  the  Western 
Church."  ^  There  was  another  who  rendered  a  yet  more 
dubious  assistance.  Maximus  or  Heron  was  one  of  the 
class  of  those  wild  Egyptians  who  played  some 

/  .  •  i-    Maximus. 

years  later  so  disgraceful  a  part  m  the  tram  of 
Cyril  of  Alexandria.  He  had  once  been  a  philosopher  of 
the  Cjmical  sect,  and,  although  ordained,  still  wore  their 
curious  costume.  In  all  these  disturbances  his  figure 
was  conspicuous.  He  wielded  a  long  staff  in  his  hands. 
A  tangled  mass  of  curls  —  half  of  their  natural  black, 
half  painted  yellow  —  fell  over  his  shoulders. ^  A  dirty 
shirt  enveloped  his  half-naked  limbs,  which  he  occasion- 
ally drew  aside  to  show  the  scars  of  wounds  which  he 
professed  to  have  received  in  some  persecution.  At  every 
word  of  Gregory  he  uttered  shouts  of  delight,  at  every 
allusion  to  the  heretics  he  uttered  yells  of  execration. 
The  most  sinister  rumors,  however,  were  circulated 
against  his  private  character.  Even  the  marks  on  his 
back  were  whispered  to  be  the  effects  of  a  severe  casti- 
gation  with  which  he  had  been  visited  for  some  discredit- 

1  Many  questions  passed  between  them  on  Biblical  criticism  and  on  ecclesias- 
tical policy.     (Jerome,  Contra  Rufn.  i.  13;  De  Viris  Illustribus,  c.  117.) 

2  De  Vit.  754,  766. 


332  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.       [Chap.  XVL 

able  transaction.  But  Gregory  was  infatuated,  as  is 
sometiuies  the  case  with  the  most  sagacious  and  the  most 
incorruptible  of  men,  by  the  charms  of  assiduous  flat  teiy, 
and  by  the  advantage  of  having  near  him  an  ally  who 
stopped  at  nothing  in  defence  of  a  cause  which  he  thought 
right.  Such  is  the  secret  of  the  ridiculous  eulogy  which 
Gregory  pronounced  on  Maximus  in  his  presence,  in  a 
sermon  which  still  remains  as  a  monument  of  the  weak- 
ness into  which  party  spirit  can  betray  even  a  thoughtful 
and  pious  man.  His  dear  "■  Heron  was  a  true  model  of 
the  union  of  philosophy  and  religion  "  ^  —  a  "  friend  from 
an  unexpected  quarter  "  —  a  "  dog  "  —  alluding  to  the 
title  of  his  philosophical  sect  of  the  Cynics  or  "  Dogs  " — 
"  a  dog  indeed  in  the  best  sense  :  a  watch-dog,  who 
guards  the  house  from  robbers  "  —  fiuidly,  it  was  not  too 
much  to  say,  "•  his  successor  in  the  promised  see  of  Con- 
stantinople." This  last  hint  was  not  thrown  away  on 
"  the  Dog."  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  The  Em- 
peror  was  on  his  way  to  Constantinople.  Whoever  was 
the  orthodox  champion  in  possession  of  the  see  would 
probably  be  able  to  keep  it.  Maximus  comnmnicated 
his  designs  to  his  Egyptian  fellow-countrymen  amongst 
the  bishops.  They,  as  the  orthodox  of  the  orthodox,  en- 
tered at  once  into  his  plan,  which  received  the  sanction 
of  Peter,  successor  of  Athanasius  in  the  see  of  Alexandria. 
Alexandria  at  that  time  was,  saving  the  dignity  of  the  new 
capital  of  Constantinople,  the  chief  city  of  the  Eastern 
world.  Its  ecclesiastical  primacy  in  the  East  had  hither- 
to been  undisputed.  The  Bishop  of  Alexandria  was  at 
this  time  the  only  "  Pope  "  or  "  Father  "  of  the  Church. 
He  had  long  enjoyed  the  title.     It  is  a  probable  conject- 

1  Gregory  Naz.  Or.  xxv.  1,  2.  It  is  from  liis  companion  St.  Jerome  tliat 
we  are  able  to  substantiate  the  identity  of  Maximus  with  the  Heron  of  this 
strange  discourse.  "The  names  were  changed,"  says  Jerome,  "in  order  to 
save  tlie  credit  of  Gregory  from  having  alternately  praised  and  blamed  the  same 
man."     (De  Viris  lllustribus,  c.  117.) 


Chap.  XVI.]  MAXIMUS.  833 

lire  ^  that  in  this  stroke  of  elevating  an  Egj'ptian  of  the 
Egyptians  to  the  see  of  Constantinople  there  was  a  de- 
liberate intention  at  grasping  the  primacy  of  the  Imperial 
Church.  All  was  prepared.  A  large  sum  of  money, 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  Maximus  by  a  Tliasian  presby- 
ter who  had  been  to  the  Golden  Horn  to  buy  marble, 
was  employed  in  securing  the  services  of  a  number  of 
Alexandrian  sailors.  Gregory  was  confined  to  his  house 
by  illness.  With  this  mixed  multitude  to  represent  the 
congregation,  the  Egyptian  bishops  solemnly  consecrated 
Maximus  at  the  dead  of  night.  The  elevation  to  this 
high  dignity  was  rendered  still  more  marked  by  the  met- 
amorphosis in  his  outward  appearance.  "  They  took 
'  the  dog,'  "  says  Gregory,  in  whose  eyes  the  Cynic  now 
assumed  a  very  different  aspect,  "  and  shaved  him ;  the 
long  locks  in  which  his  strength  resided  were  shorn  off 
by  these  ecclesiastical  Dalilahs."  But  Maximus  had 
overreached  himself.  This  was  too  startling  a  conti'ast. 
When  he  appeared  in  the  morning,  cropt,  and  well-dressed 
as  a  bishop,  an  inextinguishable  roar  of  laughter  resounded 
through  the  city.  Gregory  felt  that  he  was  included  in 
the  general  ridicule.  He  determined  on  leaving  Constan- 
tinople. Then  a  reaction  took  place.  The  mob  veered 
round.  They  insisted  on  forcing  Gregory  at  once  into 
the  contested  see.  They  dragged  him  in  their  arms  to 
the  episcopal  chair.  He  struggled  to  escape.  He  stiffened 
his  legs,  so  as  to  refuse  to  sit.  The  perspiration  streamed 
from  his  face.  They  pushed  and  forced  him  down.  The 
women  wept,  the  children  screamed.  At  last  he  con- 
sented, and  then  was  left  to  repose.  He  endeavored  to 
recover  his  equanimity  by  retiring  for  a  time  to  a  villa 
on  the  shoi-es  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  there  to  wander, 
as  he  tell  us,  at  sunset  —  unconscious  of  the  glory  which 
at    that  hour  lights  up  that  wonderful  prospect  with  a 

1  Milman's  History  of  Christianity  under  the  Empire,  vol.  iii.  p.  115. 


334  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.        [Chap.  XVI. 

glow  of  magical  splendor,  but  not  insensible  to  the  mel- 
ancholy sentiment  inspired  by  the  rolling  waves  of  the 
tideless  sea  along  the  bays  of  that  winding  shore. 

There  were  two  other  claimants  for  the  vacant  see  — 
each  waiting  with  the  utmost  expectation  the  only  hand 
which  could  seat  them  securely  in  their  places,  the  hand 
of  Theodosius.  At  Thessalonica  the  Emperor  met  Max- 
imus,  who,  seeing  that  he  was  coldly  received,  took  ref- 
uge at  Alexandria,  under  the  shelter  of  the  prelate  who 
was  at  that  time  the  eastern  oracle  of  the  ecclesiastical 
world.  Theodosius  in  this  difficulty  appealed  to  the 
western  oracle  at  Rome.  The  Bishop  of  Rome  was  glad 
of  the  opportunity  of  striking  a  blow  at  once  at  the  in- 
dependence and  the  superior  civilization  of  the  East. 
Damasus,  who  had  a  sufficient  tincture  of  letters  to  write 
the  verses  that  may  still  be  read  in  the  Roman  catacombs, 
fired  off  an  answer  which  by  the  same  blow  killed  one  and 
wounded  the  other  rival.  Maximus  was  to  be  rejected, 
not  on  account  of  his  scandalous  vices,  but  because  he  still 
wore  the  garb  of  a  philosopher.  "  No  Christian  can  wear 
the  clothes  of  a  pagan  philosopher."  And  then,  with 
a  covert  attack  on  Gregory  himself,  he  added,  "  Philos- 
ophy, friend  of  the  world's  wisdom,  is  the  enemy  of  faith, 
the  poison  of  hope,  the  war  against  charity."  The  advice 
thus  proffered  was  followed  up  by  a  recommendation  to 
the  Emperor  to  summon  a  General  Council  for  the  set- 
tlement of  the  disputed  succession. 

This  accordingly  was  the  origin  of  the  Council  of  Con- 
stantinople. Theodosius  meanwhile  took  the  matter  of 
the  See  of  Constantinople  into  his  own  hands.  To  the 
actual  Bishop,  the  Arian  Demophilus,  he  proposed  the 
orthodox  confession  or  resignation  ;  Demophilus  honora- 
bly i-esisted  the  temptation.  ''  Since  you  fly  from  peace," 
said  the  Emperor,  "  I  will  make  you  fly  from  your  place." 
So   summary  was   the   deposition  of  a  prelate  in  those 


Chap.  XVI.]  CONSECRATION    OF   GREGORY.  335 

days,  when  the  breath,  not  of  a  prelate  but  of  an  Em- 
peror, was  sufficient  to  depose  the  greatest  bishops  in 
Christendom.  To  Gregory  he  turned  with  a  no  less 
imperious  expression  of  his  will :  "  Constantinople  de- 
mands you,  and  God  makes  me  his  instrument  to  give 
you  this  church."  The  election  was  still  nominally  in 
the  hands  of  the  people,  but  the  mandate  of  the  Em- 
peror was  more  powerful  than  any  conge  d'elire.  It  was 
on  the  26th  of  November  —  one  of  those  dreary  days  on 
which  the  winds  from  the  Black  Sea  envelop  the  bright 
city  of  Constantinople  with  a  shroud  of  clouds  dark  as 
night,  which  Gregory's  enemies  interpreted  into  a  sinister 
presage  of  his  ill-omened  elevation.  The  Emperor  rode 
in  state  to  the  church  where  the  ceremony  was  to  take 
place.  The  immense  multitude  of  the  Arian  population 
who  were  to  lose  their  bishop,  and  perhaps  themselves 
to  be  banished  with  him,  —  old  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, —  threw  themselves  in  vain  before  his  horse's  feet. 
The  Spanish  soldier  rode  on  immovable,  as  if  he  were  on 
his  way  to  the  field  of  battle.  It  was,  says  Gregory  him- 
self, the  likeness  of  a  city  taken  by  storm.  By  the  Em- 
peror's side  was  the  pale,  stooping,  trembling  candidate 
for  the  see,  hardly  knowing  where  he  was  till  he  found 
himself  safe  within  the  church,  behind  the  rails  of  the 
chancel,  where  he  sat  side  by  side  with  the  magnificent 
Emperor,  who  in  his  imperial  purple  was  raised  there 
aloft  as  the  chief  person  in  the  place.  It  was  the 
"  Church  of  the  Apostles,"  that  earliest  mausoleum  of 
Christian  sovereigns,  the  first  germ  of  St.  Denys,  the 
Escurial,  and  Westminster  Abbey,  where  Constantino 
and  his  successors  lay  entombed,  and  where  in  after 
days  was  to  rise  a  yet  more  splendid  edifice,  the  mosque 
which  the  Mussulman  conqueror  Mahomet  II.  built  in 
like  manner  for  himself  and  his  dynasty.  There  was  still 
a  hesitation,  or  seeming  hesitation,  as  to  which  way  the 


336  THE   COUNCIL    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.       [Chap.  XVL 

popular  feeling  would  turn.  Suddenly,  by  one  of  those 
abrupt  transitions  common  in  Eastern  skies,  a  r;iy  of 
sunlight  burst  tlM'ough  the  wintry  clouds,  and  flasliing 
from  sword  to  sword  along  the  ranks  of  soldiers,  and 
from  gem  to  gem  on  the  rich  dresses  of  priest  and  cour- 
tier, finally  enveloped  the  bald  white  head  of  Gregory 
liimself  as  with  a  halo  of  glory.  The  omen  was  at  once 
accepted.  A  shout  like  thunder  rose  from  the. vast  con- 
gregation, "Long  live  our  Bishop  Gregory!"  In  the 
high  galleries  rang  the  shrill  cries  of  the  women  in  re- 
sponse. With  a  few  faint  protestations,  Gregory  con- 
sented to  mount  the  Episcopal  chair,  and  the  long  dis- 
pute was  terminated. 

Within  six  weeks  after  this  event  took  place  one  of 
those  double-sided  movements  which,  without  revealing 
Funeral  of  any  actual  duplicity  in  the  actors,  disclose  the 
Athananc.  hollowness  of  their  pretensions  and  opinions. 
On  the  same  day  that  a  rigid  decree  condemned  and 
banished  the  Arians  of  the  empire  from  the  walls  of 
every  city,i  there  arrived  in  Constantinople  the  chief  of 
the  whole  Arian  world,  Athanaric  the  Goth,  seeking 
shelter  in  the  court  of  his  conqueror  from  a  domestic 
revolution.  He  was  received  with  as  much  honor  as  if 
he  had  been  the  most  orthodox  of  mankind,  and  then 
a  few  days  after  his  arrival  he  wasted  away  and  died. 
His  funeral,  heretic  as  he  was,  was  conducted  with  a 
magnificence  which  excited  the  wonder  and  admiration 
of  the  Goths  even  far  away  beyond  the  Danube. 

Meanwhile  the  day  for  the  opening  of  the  Council 
drew  on.  Even  Gregory  did  not  consider  his  elevation 
secured  till  he  had  received  its  confirmation.    The  month 

1  Demopliilus  the  Arian  bishop,  on  the  promulgation  of  this  edict,  very 
naturally  quoted  the  evangelical  precept,  "  If  they  persecute  you  in  one  city, 
flee  to  another."  "  Not  so,"  says  Socrates,  the  ecclesiastical  historian.  "  Tho 
text  means  that  you  must  leave  the  city  of  the  world  and  go  to  the  city  of  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem." 


Chap.  XVI.]  ITS   MEMBERS.  337 

of  May  had  come  —  tbe  season  when  the  navigation  of 
the  Mediterranean  was  open,  and  when  the  Bishops  could 
safely  embark  from  their  distant  dioceses.  It  was  the 
first  General  Council  that  had  assembled  in  the  Imperial 
city.  When  its  predecessors  met  at  Nicaa,  this  was  be- 
cause Constantinople  was  not  yet  founded.  But  now 
there  was  no  locality  at  once  so  central  and  so  august  as 
the  great  Christian  capital.  Called  as  the  Council  was 
emphatically  "  by  the  commandment  and  will  "  of  the 
Emperor,  it  could  meet  nowhere  but  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Imperial  throne.  Although  less  distin-  j^^  ^^j^. 
guished  by  the  character  and  fame  of  its  mem-  ^®"' 
bers  than  that  earlier  synod^  and  although  still  more  ex- 
clusively confined  to  the  Eastern  Church,  it  was  not  with- 
out some  brilliant  ornaments.  Thei'e  were  the  friends 
of  Basil,  well  versed  in  his  moderate  counsels.  Chief 
amongst  them  was  his  brother  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  reck- 
oned by  the  5th  and  7th  General  Councils  amongst 
the  highest  authorities  of  the  Church. ^  He  had  lately 
returned  from  his  journey  to  Syria,  on  a  mission  of  peace- 
making —  filled  with  indignation  against  the  follies  and 
scandals  of  the  pilgrimages.  He  brought  with  him  his 
elaborate  work  against  the  recent  heretics,  which  in  spare 
moments  he  read  aloud  to  his  friend  the  new  Bishop  of 
Constantinople,  and  to  their  joint  admirer  the  youthful 
Jerome.2  There  was  Cyril  of  Jei'usalem,  now  in  his  ad- 
vancing yeai's,  with  whom  Gregory  had  there  become  ac- 
quainted, and  who  himself  had  originally  belonged  to  the 
semi-Arian  section  of  the  Church.  There  was  Melitius, 
the  just  and  gentle  Bishop  of  Antioch,  so  much  revered 
in  his  own  city  that  his  portrait  was  found  everywhere,  on 
rings,  on  goblets,  in  the  saloons  of  palaces,  in  the  private 
chambers  of  great  ladies.  It  might  be  conjectured  that 
one  of  these  likenesses  had  wandered  far  West,  from  an 

1  TillemoDt,  ix.  601.  2  Jerome,  Z)e  Vir.  lU.  c  128. 


338  THE   COUNCIL   OF    CONSTANTINOPLE.        [Chap.  XVI. 

incident  which  occun-ed  on  the  first  visit  of  the  Bishops 
to  the  Emperor.  The  reception  which  he  gave  to  Me- 
litius  was  of  the  most  flattering  kind  ;  he  flew  up  to  him, 
singled  him  from  the  rest,  pressed  him  to  his  bosom,  and 
kissed  his  eyes,  lips,  breast,  head,  and  hand.  He  had,  he 
said,  in  a  vision  on  the  eve  of  his  election  to  the  empire, 
seen  a  venerable  person  approach  who  wrapped  him  in 
his  imperial  mantle,  and  placed  the  diadem  on  his  head. 
This  personage  he  now  recognized  in  the  Bishop  of  An- 
tioch.  Such  a  welcome  of  itself  designated  Melitius  to 
be  President  of  the  Council.  In  fact,  in  the  absence  of 
the  Bishops  of  Rome  and  Alexandria,  the  Bishop  of  An- 
tioch  occupied  the  chief  place.  And  the  mellijluous 
character  of  Melitius  (to  use  the  pun  of  Gregory)  well 
adapted  him  for  the  office. 

The  first  work  which  the  Council  had  to  undertake 
was  the  decision  of  the  contest  for  the  see  of  Constanti- 
nople. The  absence  of  Maximus,  and  of  the  Egyptian 
bishops,  who  were  detained  at  Alexandria  around  the 
deathbed  of  their  chief,  rendered  Gregory's  triumph  easy. 
But  it  is  characteristic  of  his  moderation,  and  of  that  of 
Melitius,  that  when  there  was  a  proposal  of  proceeding 
against  the  bishops  who  had  taken  part  in  the  nomination 
of  Maximus,  it  was  abandoned  on  the  grounds  — too  often 
lost  sight  of  in  the  heat  of  controversy  —  that,  as  they 
were  detained  in  Alexandria,  it  would  be  unjust  to  con- 
demn them  in  their  absence  without  hearing  their  de- 
fence. 

This  auspicious  beginning  of  a  generosity  unusual  on 
such  occasions  was  suddenly  cut  short  by  the  death  of 
Death  of  Melitius.  The  grief  felt  on  the  event  was  testi- 
Mehtius.  ^^^  ijy  ^jjg  magnificence  of  his  obsequies.  The 
body  was  wi-apped  in  a  silken  shroud,  worked  by  one  of 
the  noble  ladies  of  Constantinople.  It  was  carried  in 
procession  to  the  imperial  mausoleum  in  the  Church  of 


Chap.  XVI.]  CONTENTIONS   AT   ANTIOCH.  339 

the  Apostles  ;  all  the  bishops  assisted,  with  their  clergy, 
singing  psalms  in  the  different  dialects  —  probably  the 
Greek  dialects — of  Asia  Minor  and  Syria.  Funeral 
orations  were  pronounced,  amongst  others,  by  Gregory  of 
Nyssa.  The  sacred  remains  were  then  sent  home  to  An- 
tioch  ;  and  it  marks  the  difference  between  ancient  and 
modern  usage,  that  an  express  order  from  the  Emperor 
was  required  to  enable  the  funeral  procession,  as  a  spe- 
cial favor,  even  to  enter  the  walls  of  the  various  cities 
through  which  it  passed. 

The  fii'st  question  to  be  discussed  by  the  CouncJil,  thus 
deprived  of  its  head,  and  placed,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
under  the  presidency  of  Gregory  Nazianzen,  now  the  rec- 
ognized bishop  of  the  Imperial  city,  was  occasioned  by 
the  very  calamity  which  they  were  now  deploring.  Os- 
tensibly called  together  to  decide  certain  grave  theolog- 
ical questions  then  pending,  their  main  interest  was  cen' 
tred,'as  usually  happens  in  popular  assemblies,  whether 
secular  or  ecclesiastical,  on  a  question  purely  personal. 

The  Church  of  Antioch  had  been  lately  divided  by  two 
contending  factions.  Melitius,  who  had  thus  been  car- 
ried to  his  grave  with  all  the  honors  of  a  saint,  contentions 
was  the  lawful,  but,  in  the  eyes  of  an  extreme  ^^  Antioch. 
party  at  Antioch,  not  the  orthodox,  bishop  of  that  see. 
He  had  in  his  youth,  it  was  said,  been  infected  by  the 
subtle  errors  of  Arius  ;  and,  in  his  later  years,  he  had 
joined  Basil  in  the  noble  attempts  of  that  distinguished 
divine  to  moderate  the  rage  of  controversy,  and  to  ac- 
cept, without  further  test  or  questioning,  all  who  were 
willing  to  adopt  the  creed  of  Nicaea,  which  down  to  that 
time  had  expressed  no  precise  definition  of  the  compli- 
cated opinions  that  were  now  arising  on  the  nature  of  the 
Third  Hypostasis  of  the  Trinity. ^  This  moderation  was 
a  grave  offence  in  the  judgment  of  the  partisans  of  ex- 

1  Gregory,  Or.  xliii.  19. 


340  THE   COUNCIL    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.       [Chap.  XVI. 

treme  orthodoxy.  They  refused  to  communicate  with 
Melitius ;  and  they  received  from  Sardinia,  from  the 
hands  of  the  stern  fanatic  Lucifer  of  Cagliari,  a  bishop 
of  the  name  of  Paulinus,  who  became  the  head  of  a  dis- 
senting community  within  the  Church  of  Antioch,  prid- 
ing itself  on  its  superior  orthodoxy,  and  refusing  to  ac- 
knowledge the  legitimate  bishop,  and  maintained  chiefly 
in  its  position  not  by  any  support  from  the  national 
churches  of  the  East,  but  from  the  more  eager  ^  zealots 
of  the  Western  Empire^  who  fanned  the  flames  of  dis- 
cord. "  This  ridiculous  and  causeless  schism  "  ^  had  en- 
gaged the  attention  of  Melitius  before  he  left  his  diocese. 
The  case  had  been  referred  to  the  imperial  councillors, 
who  had  decided  in  Melitius's  favor ;  and  he  then  pro- 
posed to  Paulinus,  as  a  middle  course,  that  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Church  should  remain  in  statu  quo  till  the 
death  of  either,  in  which  case  the  other  should  succeed 
to  the  vacant  see.  To  this,  after  some  hesitation,  Paul- 
inus acceded ;  and  all  the  chief  clergy  at  Antioch  swore 
to  observe  the  compact. 

On  the  death  of  Melitius,  the  very  case  provided  for 
had  occurred  :  and  Gregory  immediately  proposed  to  the 
Council  that  the  convention  should  be  carried  out.  He 
appealed  to  the  oaths  by  which  it  was  supported  ;  he  re- 
minded them  that  "  if  two  angels  were  candidates  for  the 
disputed  see,  the  quarrel  was  not  worth  the  scandal  it 
occasioned."  With  a  disinterestedness  the  more  remark- 
able because  he  had  been  fiercely  attacked  by  Paulinus 
for  his  moderate  counsels  in  former  times,  he  entreated 
them  to  abide  by  the  agreement,  and  hinted  at  the  dan- 
ger of  rousing  the  passions  of  the  western  bishops,  who 
were  in  favor  of  their  nominee  Paulinus.  Never  did 
Gregory  plead  with  more  eloquence  or  in  behalf  of  a 
juster  cause.     But  he  pleaded  in  vain.     Even  before  Me- 

1    De  Broglie,  voL  i.  pp.  121-123.  a  ibid.  p.  424. 


Chap.  XVI.]  CONTENTIONS   AT  ANTIOCH.  341 

litius's  death,  the  contending  factions  in  this  Antiochene 
quarrel  had  flown  at  each  other's  throats,  canvassing 
right  and  left  every  one  that  came  across  them,  with 
cheers  and  counter-cheers.^  The  question  had  passed 
from  the  region  of  justice  and  of  faith  into  a  mere  party 
struggle.  Now  that  the  time  for  a  pacific  settlement  had 
arrived,  the  Melitians  would  not  hear  of  submitting  to 
the  odious  Paulinus.  Nor  could  they  be  conciliated  by 
the  appeal  of  Gregor}-.  His  influence  had  been  shaken 
by  his  weakness  in  the  affair  of  Maximus  ;  and,  besides, 
his  allusion  to  the  fear  of  the  West  roused  all  the  slum- 
bering passions  of  the  jealous  East.  He  has  himself  de- 
scribed the  effect  of  his  speech  :  "  A  yell,  rather  than 
a  cry,  broke  from  the  assembled  episcopate."  "  They 
threw  dust  in  his  face ;  they  buzzed  about  him  like  a 
swarm  of  wasps ;  they  cawed  against  him  like  an  army 
of  crows."  The  young  were  most  ardent,  but  they  were 
hounded  on  by  the  old.  An  argument  against  the  West, 
which  seemed  to  the  youthful  partisans  of  the  East  irre- 
sistible, was  that  Christianity  must  follow  the  course  of 
the  sun,  not  from  west  to  east,  but  from  east  to  west ; 
and  the  Eastern  bishops  supported  this  view,  "  showing 
their  tusks,"  says  Gregory,  "  as  if  they  had  been  wild 
boars."  ^  From  the  midst  of  this  tumult,  he  appealed  to 
Modarius,  an  Imperial  officer,  a  Goth,  to  allay  the  eccle- 
siastical clamor.^  He  pointed  out  to  him  that  these  epis- 
copal gatherings,  so  far  from  putting  an  end  to  the  evil, 
merely  added  confusion  to  confusion.  It  would  seem 
that  this  appeal  was  also  in  vain.  Theodosius,  Avhether 
from  scruple  or  policy,  was  determined  to  leave  the  bish- 
ops to  themselves.  The  precedent  set  by  Constantine 
at  Nicaea  had  passed  into  a  law.  That  sagacious  ruler, 
when  he  received  the  mutual  complaints  and  accusations 
of  the  bishops  of  the  First  General  Council  against  each 

1  Gregory,  De  Vit.  1555.        2  De  Vit.  1805.         8  Ep,  136. 


342  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.      [Chap.  XVI. 

other,  put  them  all  into  the  fire  without  reading  them  ; 
and  in  accordance  with  this  contemptuous  but  charitable 
act,  an  imperial  decree  was  passed  on  the  occasion  of  the 
Second  Council,^  prohibiting  bishops  to  appear  against 
each  other  in  courts  of  law.  Theodosius,  however,  though 
unwilling  to  interfere  directly,  determined  to  exercise  an 
indirect  influence  on  the  largest  scale.  He  summoned 
from  across  the  border  the  only  western  bishops  who 
were  available  —  those  of  Macedonia,  which,  according 
to  the  division  then  established,  belonged  to  the  Western 
Empire.  Their  appearance  might  have  turned  the  scale 
in  behalf  of  Gregory's  counsels,  but  at  the  same  moment 
that  they  entered  Constantinople,  there  arrived  in  the 
Golden  Horn  an  equal  accession  to  the  opposite  faction 
from  Egypt.  The  Egyptian  bishops  were  with  their  new 
"  Pope,"  and  boiling  over  with  indignation  against  Greg- 
ory for  his  rejection  of  their  old  favorite  Maximus.  The 
Macedonian  bishops  also  proved  more  unmanageable  than 
Theodosius  had  anticipated.  They  brought  with  them, 
as  Gregory  expresses  it,  the  "  rough  breath  of  the  North- 
Wester."  Their  uncomproniising  austerity,  and  the  sub- 
tle controversial  spirit  of  the  eastern  prelates,  found  a 
common  ground  in  attacking  the  unfortunate  Gregory. 
There  was  one  joint  in  his  ecclesiastical  harness  which 
presented  an  opening  for  the  darts  of  the  rigid  precisians 
of  the  time.  The  Council  of  Nicaea  had  peremptorily 
Deprivation  forbiddcn,  on  pain  of  deprivation  from  orders, 
of  Gregory.  .^^^  translation  —  not  only  from  see  to  see,  but 
from  parish  to  parish.^  From  that  hour  to  this,  in  every 
church  of  Christendom,  human  ambition  and  obvious 
convenience  have  been  too  strong  for  the  decree  even  of 
so  venerable  a  body  as   the   First  (Ecumenical  Council. 

1  Cod.  Theod.  xi.  t.  xxxix,  1.  9.     As  explained,  with  every  appearance  of 
reason,  by  M.  de  Broglie  (vol.  i.  p.  434),  after  Godefroi. 

2  See  Chapter  IX. 


Chap.  XVI.]  DEPRIVATION    OF   GREGORY.  343 

But,  general  as  the  violation  of  the  decree  was,  it  was 
only  when  personal  interests  could  be  served  by  reviving 
it  that  attention  was  called  to  the  practice.  Gregory 
had  been  Bishop  of  Sasima  before  he  was  elevated  to  the 
see  of  Constantinople.  This  was  enough  ;  and  although 
the  fact  had  been  perfectly  known  at  the  time  when  his 
election  to  the  see  was  confirmed  by  this  very  Council  ; 
although  there  was  no  reason  for  proceeding  against  him, 
rather  than  against  any  of  the  many  bishops  and  presby- 
ters who  had  equally  broken  the  decree  of  Nicaea  ;  al- 
though there  was  no  occasion  for  reviving  the  question 
in  his  case  at  this  particular  moment ;  yet  the  leading 
members  of  the  Council  had  the  meanness  to  condemn  in 
him  what  they  forgave  in  those  with  whom  they  had  no 
quarrel ;  to  take  advantage  of  his  temporary  unpopularity 
to  press  against  him  a  measure  which  justice  would  have 
required  to  be  pressed  against  numberless  others.  To 
Gregory  personally  the  retii'ement  fi'om  his  bishopric  was 
no  great  sacrifice.  The  episcopate  had  always  been  a 
burden  to  him  ;  he  "  neighed  like  an  imprisoned  horse 
for  his  green  pastures  ^  of  study  and  leisure."  He  deter- 
mined at  once  to  "  make  himself  the  Jonah  of  the  tem- 
pest." Yet  when  it  came  to  the  point,  even  lie  could 
not  believe  that  the  Council  would  have  the  base  ingrat^ 
itude  to  accept  a  resignation  so  nobly  and  promptly  of- 
fei'ed.  But  generosity  towards  a  fallen  foe  is  a  difficult 
virtue.  A  few,  in  disgust  at  their  associates,  followed 
Gregory  as  he  left  the  Council.  The  rest  remained,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  departure  of  an  honest  and  therefore  a 
troublesome  chief.  "  I  have  not  time  or  disposition," 
says  Gregory,  "  to  unravel  their  intrigues,  so  I  will  be 
silent."  He  then  visited  the  Emperor,  hoping,  perhaps 
in  spite  of  himself,  to  obtain  a  reversal  of  his  own  sen- 
tence.    But  Theodosius,  though  far  more  deeply  affected 

1  De  Vit.  1860-70. 


344  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.      [Chap.  XVL 

than  the  Synod,  adhered  to  the  resolution  of  leaving  the 
bishops  to  settle  their  own  affairs  ;  and  after  a  pathetic 
and  eloquent  farewell,  delivered  in  the  Church  of  the 
Apostles  ;  after  a  glowiiig  description  —  true  even  after 
the  vicissitudes  of  thirteen  hundred  years  —  of  the  great 
opportunities  of  Constantinople,  "  the  eye  of  the  world, 
the  knot  which  links  together  East  and  West ;  the  centre 
in  which  all  extremes  combine,"  —  Gregory  quitted  that 
glorious  city  forever,  and  hastened  to  bury  his  old  age 
and  his  cares  in  the  solitude  of  his  ancestral  home  'at 
Nazianzus.  He  might,  perhaps,  have  acted  a  more  dig- 
nified part  had  he  buried  in  oblivion  all  remembrance  of 
the  causes  of  his  retirement.  But  history  has  ratified  the 
truth  of  the  invectives  which  his  vanity  or  his  righteous 
indignation  extorted  from  him.  The  pent-up  flow  of  his 
emotion,  as  he  says,  could  not  be  restrained,^  and  the  re- 
sult is  an  elaborate  picture  of  the  bishops  of  that  time, 
doubtless  of  those  whom  he  had  known  at  the  Council, 
and  who  had  cast  him  out  from  their  ranks  as  "  an  evil 
and  unholy  man."  This  extraordinary  description  would 
be  justly  considered  a  libel  on  any  modern  ecclesiastical 
assembly,  and  is  thus  instructive,  as  showing  the  impres- 
sion produced  on  a  contemporary  and  a  canonized  saint 
b}'  an  institution  and  an  age  to  which  later  times  have 
looked  back  with  such  unquestioning  reverence. ^  "  They 
are  actors  on  a  gigantic  scale."  "  They  walk  on  stilts." 
"  They  grin  through  borrowed  masks."  The}^  seem  to 
him  as  though  they  had  come  in  answer  to  the  summons 
of  a   herald  who   had  convoked  to  the  Council  all  the 


1  Ad  EjAsc.  (vol  ii.  pp.  824,  829.) 

2  M.  de  Broglie  has  evaded  ."iome  of  these  dark  colors  by  transferring  them  to 
the  Arian  bishops ;  much  in  the  same  way  as  the  mutual  recriminations  of  the 
Bishops  of  Nictea  have  been  disposed  of  by  wrongly  referring  them  to  the  here- 
tics. But  there  can  be  no  question  that  Gregory  is  speaking  of  those  who  dis- 
missed him  from  his  office  (see  De  Episc.  150,  Ad  Episc.  110),  and  therefore  of 
the  Council  collectivelv. 


Chap.  XVI.]  DEPRIVATION   OF   GREGORY.  345 

gluttons,  villains,  liars,  false-swearers  of  the  Empire. 
They  are  "  chameleons  that  change  their  color  with  every 
stone  over  which  they  pass."  They  are  "  illiterate,  low- 
born, filled  with  all  the  pride  of  upstarts  fresh  from  the 
tables  of  false  accountants,"  "  peasants  from  the  plough," 
or  from  the  spade,  "  unwashed  blacksmiths,"  "  deserters 
from  the  army  and  navy,  still  stinking  from  the  holds  of 
the  ships,"  or  with  the  brand  of  the  whip  or  the  iron  on 
their  bodies.  The  I'efined  Gregory  was  doubtless  acutely 
sensitive  to  the  coarseness  of  vulgarity  and  "  the  igno- 
rance whicb  never  knows  when  to  be  silent."  But  he  is 
aware  of  the  objection  that  the  Apostles  might  be  said 
also  to  have  been  unlearned  men.  "  Yes,"  he  replies,  as 
if  anticipating  the  argument  of  the  apostolical  or  pa- 
pal succession,  "  but  it  must  be  a  real  Apostle  ;  give  me 
one  such,  and  I  will  reverence  him  however  illiterate."  ^ 
"But  these,"  he  returns  to  the  charge,  "are  time-servers, 
waiting  not  on  God  but  on  the  rise  and  flow  of  the  tides, 
or  the  straw  in  the  wind  "  —  "  angry  lions  to  the  small, 
fawning  spaniels  to  the  great" — "  flatterers  of  ladies  " 
—  "  snuffing  up  the  smell  of  good  dinners  "  —  "  ever  at 
the  gates  not  of  the  wise  but  of  the  powerful  "  ^  —  "  un- 
able to  speak  themselves,  but  having  sufiicient  sense  to 
stop  the  tongues  of  those  who  can  "  —  "  made  worse  by 
their  elevation  "  —  "  affecting  manners  not  their  own  " — 
"  the  long  beard,  the  downcast  look,  the  head  bowed,  the 
subdued  voice  "  — "the  slow  walk" —  "  the  got-up  de- 
votee''^—  "  the  wisdom  anywhere  but  in  mind." 

If  such  is  a  faithful  character  of  the  prelates  at  the 
Council,  it  needed  not  any  special  provocation  to  jus- 
tify the  well-known  protests  of  Gregory,  which,  in  fact, 
are  even  tame  and  flat  after  these  sustained  invectives. 

1-  Ad  Episc.  pp.  200-2-30. 
2  De  Episc.  pp.  330-350,  635. 
*  UicrTos  eaKivaaij.ivo':,  Ibid.  150. 


346  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.       [Chap.  XVI. 

"  Councils,  congresses,  we  greet  afar  off,  from  which  (to 
use  very  moderate  terms)  we  have  suffered  many  evils." 
"  I  will  not  sit  in  one  of  those  Councils  of  geese  and 
cranes."  "  I  fly  from  every  meeting  of  bishops,  for  I 
never  saw  a  good  end  of  any  such,^  nor  a  termination, 
but  rather  an  addition,  of  evils." 

The  Council  was  thus  left  without  a  head,  and  Con- 
stantinople without  a  bishop.  Accordingly  one  of  the 
chief  objects  for  which  the  Synod  had  been  called  to- 
gether was  by  its  own  folly  frustrated.  Whilst  the 
Council  hesitated,  others  took  the  matter  into  their  own 
hands.  The  solution  was  one  which  forcibly  illustrates 
the  ecclesiastical  usages  of  those  times,  as  unlike  to  those 
of  our  time  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 

There  was  a  magistrate  at  Constantinople  named  Nec- 
tarius,  remarkable  for  his  dignified  manners.  He  was  a 
Election  of  native  of  Tarsus,  and,  being  on  the  point  of  re- 
Nectanus.  turning  home,  called  on  his  countryman  Dio- 
dorus,  Bishop  of  Tarsus,  then  at  the  Council,  to  ask 
whether  he  could  take  any  letters  for  him.  Diodorus, 
perhaps  not  without  the  partiality  of  a  fellow-citizen, 
was  so  much  struck  by  his  venerable  white  locks  and  his 
splendid  priestly  appearance,  that  he  determined,  if  pos- 
sible, to  have  him  raised  to  the  vacant  bishopric.  He 
accordingly  communicated  his  name  to  the  Bishop  of 
Antioch,  who  at  first  laughed  at  the  notion  as  preposter- 
ous, but  at  last  consented,  partly  as  a  favor,  partly  in 
jest,  to  add  his  name  at  the  end  of  the  list  to  be  sub- 
mitted to  the  Emperor. 2 

Meantime,  the  claims  of  Nectarius  appear  to  have 
been  whispered  about  in  the  groups  of  loiterers  who  may 
always  be  seen  in  an  Eastern  city,  and  thus  to  have 
reached  the  Court.     The  Emperor,  the  moment  he  saw 

1  Ibid.  vol.  ii.  pp.  106,  110;  Dt  Vit.  855. 

2  Sozomen,  vii.  c.  8. 


Chap.  XVI.]  ELECTION    OF   NECTARIUS.  347 

the  list,  put  his  finger  on  Nectarius's  name,  ran  over 
the  other  candidates,  then  came  back  to  Nectarius,  and 
declared  him  bishop,  to  the  general  amazement  of  the 
Council,  who,  nevertheless,  at  once  acquiesced  in  the 
decision. 

Not  only,  however,  was  Nectarius  a  layman  and  a 
magistrate,  but  he  was  unbaptized,  and  not  only  unbap- 
tized,  but  he  had  purposely  delaj^ed  his  baptism,  accord- 
ing to  the  bad  practice  of  that  age,  in  order  to  reserve  for 
the  last  moment  the  cancelling  of  the  sins  of  a  somewhat 
frivolous  youth  and  manhood.  But  this  discovery  was 
made  too  late,  and  the  Emperor  adhered  to  his  decision 
with  an  obstinacy  so  surprising  that  it  was  afterwards 
supposed  by  Nectarius's  admirers  that  he  must  have  had 
a  special  inspiration.  In  the  opinion  of  some  this  strange 
episcopate  turned  out  extremely  well.  But  this  is  not 
the  natural  inference  from  the  facts  that  we  know  con- 
cerning it.^  Its  beginning  certainly  was  not  creditable. 
Nectarius  learned  his  episcopal  duties  as  fast  as  he  could 
from  one  of  his  Cilician  friends,  Cyriacus,  Bishop  of 
Adana,  whom,  by  the  advice  of  Diodorus,  he  retained 
with  him  for  some  time.^  He  also  surrounded  himself 
with  a  circle  of  his  own  countrymen,  and  amongst  others 
was  anxious  to  ordain  as  his  chaplain  and  deacon,  Mar- 
ty rius,  a  physician,  who  had  been  formerly  one  of  his 
boon  companions,  biit  who  now  declined  Nectarius's  pro- 
posal on  the  characteristic  ground,  that  he,  having  been 
baptized  long  before,  had  lost  the  chance  of  clearing  him- 
self which  Nectarius,  by  his  postponement  of  the  sacred 
rite,  had  so  prudently  reserved. 

Such  was  the  new  head  of  the  Council  and  of  the 
clergy  of  Constantinople  to  be  introduced  into  his  office 

1  The  bad  character  of  Nectarius's  episcopate  is  fairly  brought  out  by  Tille- 
mont,  vol.  ix.  p.  488. 

2  Sozomen,  vii.  9. 


348  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTIOXPJ.E.       [Chap.  XVI. 

by  an  accumulation,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  of  tlie 
ceremonies  of  baptism,  ordination,  and  consecration,  each 
of  which  at  that  time  implied  weeks  if  not  years  of  prep- 
aration. The  scandal  of  Nectarius's  elevation  caused  so 
much  talk  as  to  revive  once  more  the  hopes  of  Maximus 
the  Dog,  who  seduced  no  less  a  person  than  Ambrose  ^ 
and  the  other  bishops  of  the  West  to  take  up  his  cause. 
But  Nectarius  held  his  own,  supported,  as  he  was,  by 
Emperor  and  Council,  and  also  by  a  kindly  note  from 
his  deposed  rival,  "  cast  away  by  the  ungrateful  city  like 
a  flake  of  foam  or  a  fragment  of  sea-weed  "  on  the  Bos- 
phorus. 

Meanwhile,  under  these  auspices,  the  Council  hastened 
to  wind  up  its  affairs,  and  to  approach  the  decision  of 
the  theological  questions  for  which  the  Bishops  had 
mainly  been  summoned.  By  this  time  they  were  so 
thoroughly  demoi'alized  and  discredited  by  their  internal 
quarrels,  that  the  thirty-six  heretical  prelates  who  were 
present  took  courage  to  offer  a  determined  front,  and,  to 
the  surprise  alike  of  Emperor  and  Council,  fixed  a  day 
for  their  departure,  and  left  Constantinople,  protesting 
against  any  further  attempts  on  the  part  of  the  assembly. 
But  the  majority  which  remained,  however  reduced  in 
numbers  and  authority  by  this  secession,  were  relieved  to 
feel  themselves  at  liberty  to  conclude  their  task  without 
any  further  discussion. 

From  the  most  authentic  accounts  it  would  appear 
that  they  confined  themselves  to  issuing  a  series  of  de- 
crees or  canons.  Of  these  the  first  strongly  con- 
constanti-  dcmued  iu  a  mass  the  various  heresies  of  the 
time.  The  second,  third,  and  fourth  endeav- 
ored to  determine  the  jurisdictions  and  precedencies  of 
the  different  Bishops  of  the  Empire,  annulling  the  elec- 

1  Tillemont,  vol.  ix.  pp.  501,  502.    It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Maximus 
came  out  with  an  orthodox  book  in  order  to  procure  the  favor  of  the  Emperor. 


Chap.  XVI.]  CANONS    OF   CONSTANTINOrLE.  349 

tion  of  Maxim  us,  and  giving  to  the  see  of  Constantinople 
a  rank  second  only  to  that  of  Rome,  on  the  express 
ground  that  Constantinople  was  a  second  Rome.  This 
order  is  important  as  embodying  the  fact  that  the  sev- 
eral dignitaries  of  Christendom  took  their  positions  not 
according  to  the  sacred  or  apostolic  recollections  of  their 
sees,  but  according  to  the  civil  rank  of  the  cities  where 
they  resided.  The  exaltation  of  Constantinople  was  as- 
suredly owing  not  to  any  apostolic  dignity,  but  to  its 
being  the  capital  of  Constantino,  and  the  bishop  of  old 
Rome,  in  like  manner,  assuredly  occupied  the  first  place, 
not  because  he  was  the  successor  of  Peter,  but  the  bishop 
of  the  capital  of  the  world. ^ 

It  was  2  the  9th  of  July,  and  the  summer  heats  im- 
pended, which,  though  tolerable  at  Constantinople,  would 
render  the  return  of  the  bishops  to  their  several  homes 
increasingly  difficult.  Theodosius,  now  that  their  work 
was  over,  felt  that  his  was  to  begin,  broke  silence,  and 
affirmed  by  an  imperial  decree  the  condemnation  of  the 
heresies  which  they  had  issued,  and  the  rank  of  the  bish- 
ops which  they  had  established.  Their  proceedings  were 
closed  by  a  splendid  funeral  ceremony,  in  which  the  re- 
mains of  Paul,  the  first  bishop  of  the  imperial  city,  were 
transferred  in  state  from  Ancyra  to  a  church^  in  Con- 
stantinople built  for  his  rival  and  successor  Macedonius. 
Paul  had  been  present  at  the  Council  of  Nicaea  as  a  child 
of  twelve  years  old.  in  attendance  on  Alexander,  Bishop 
of  Byzantium,  and  this  incident  of  his  posthumous  hon- 

1  The  4th,  5th,  6th,  and  7th  Canons  commonly  ascribed  to  this  Council  are 
shown  by  Hefele  {Concilien-Geschichte,  ii.  pp.  13,  14,  18-27)  to  be  of  a  later 
date.     See  also  Professor  Hort's  Dissertalions,  pp.  95-190. 

2  Hefele.     (Concilien-Gescliichte,  u.  p.  12) 

3  The  fame  of  the  funeral  was  so  great  that  a  belief  sprang  up  among  the 
people,  and  especinlly  among  the  ladies  of  Constantinople,  that  St.  Paul  the 
Apostle  was  buried  in  the  church.  (Sozomen,  vii.  c.  9.)  It  is  a  good  instance 
of  the  growth  of  a  legend  from  the  confusion  of  an  obscure  with  a  celebrated 
name.    Many  such  doubtless  have  arisen. 


350  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.      [Chap.  XVI. 

ors  thus  seems  to  link  together  the  two  first  assemblies 
of  the  Christian  Church. 

It  has  been  thought  necessary  to  give  this  description 

of  a  Council,  because  it  illustrates  so  many  feelings  of 

the    time.     We  now  come    to  the  question  of 

TheCreedof         ,      ,    .  ,  n     i      i        y-.  -,     \  ^ 

constanti-  what  IS  commonly  called  the  Creed  oi  Constan- 
tinople. In  the  common  traditions  ^  of  ecclesi- 
astical history,  the  third  part  of  the  Nicene  Creed  is  said 
to  have  been  added  by  the  Fathers  of  the  Council  of 
Constantinople  to  resist  a  new  heresy  concerning  the 
Third  Hypostasis  in  the  Trinity,  and  the  Nicene  Creed 
thus  enlarged  is  designated  as  "  the  Creed  of  Constanti- 
nople." But  this  designation,  though  not  quite  as  erro- 
neous as  that  which  speaks  of  the  "  Apostles'  Creed," 
and  of  Athanasius's  Creed,  or  which  describes  this  al- 
tered confession  as  "  the  Nicene  Creed,"  is  very  nearly 
as  destitute  of  foundation.  There  is  no  trace  in  the  rec- 
ords of  the  Council  of  any  such  formal  enunciation  of 
any  new  Creed  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  appeal  to  the  ex- 
isting Nicene  Creed  as  adequate  for  all  theological  pur- 
poses. Such  too  is  the  language  of  Gregory  Nazianzen 
a  few  years  after  the  meeting  of  the  Council.^ 

Then  follows  the  period  of  eighty  years,  which  are 
filled  by  the  two  Councils  of  Ephesus  and  that  of  Chal- 
cedon.  They  are  told  in  great  detail  by  Fleury,  Tille- 
mont,  Milman,  and  Am^dde  Thierry.  They  are  described 
with  such  liveliness  in  the  contemporary  historians  and 
acts  as  to  leave  little  to  be  desired.  The  short-hand  writ- 
ers report  to  us  not  only  every  speech,  but  every  cry  of 
approval  or  disapproval,  and  every  movement  by  which 

1  "Added  by  the  Fathers  of  the  first  Council  of  Constantinople."  (Cate- 
chism of  the  Council  of  Trent,  Article  VIII.)  Long  after  the  Council  a  chapel 
was  shown  in  Constantinople,  under  the  name  of  "Concord,"  where  the  creed 
was  said  to  have  been  drawn  up.  (Tillemont,  ix.  p.  495,  where  the  whole  mat- 
ter is  well  discussed.) 

'■2  See  Hefele.     (Concilien-Geschichte,  ii.  p.  11.) 


Chap.  XVI.]  THE    COUNCIL    OF   EPHESUS.  361 

the  assembly  was  swayed  to  and  fro.  At  times  their  re- 
ports were  taken  with  difficulty,  the  violence  of  the  chief 
actors  being  such  that  their  notes  were  effaced  as  soon  as 
written,  and  that  their  fingers  were  broken  in  the  at- 
tempt to  prevent  them  from  writing.  But  they  remain 
a  wonderful,  perhaps  a  unique,  monument  of  the  point 
to  wbich  stenography  had  reached  in  the  fourth  century. 

The  dispute  which  occasioned  the  Council  of  Ephesus 
was  the  refusal  of  Nestorius,^  Archbishop  of  Constanti- 
nople, to  describe  the  Virgin  Mary  by  a  Greek  expres- 
sion to  which  the  Western  languages  furnish  no  exact 
equivalent.  It  suffices  to  state  that  in  no  Protestant 
church  could  the  expression  be  used  without  grave  of- 
fence. Never  was  there  a  time  when  Pascal's  humorous 
description  of  theological  terms  was  more  applicable  : 
"  The  difference  between  us  is  so  subtle  that  we  can 
hardly  perceive  it  ourselves  ;  any  one  else  would  find  it 
difficult  to  understand.  Happy,"  he  exclaims  in  right- 
eous indignation,  "  are  the  nations  who  never  heard  of  the 
word.  Happy  are  they  who  preceded  its  birth."  ^  Had 
Nestorius  been  Cyril,  or  Cyril  Nestorius,  the  two  parties 
would  have  changed  accordingly.^  The  expression  over 
which  the  battle  was  fought  was  never  admitted  into  any 
creed  of  the  Church.  Neither  at  Ephesus  nor  Chalcedon 
was  there  on  this  ground  any  addition  to  what  already 
existed. 

We  must  not  suppose  that  the  Councils  acted  from 

^  I  have  given  the  titles  of  the  Roman,  Constantinopolitan,  and  Alexandrian 
.sees  as  the}-  were  at  the  time.     "  Pope  "  and  "  Patriarch  "  were  later. 

2  Provincial  Letters  I.  and  III.  For  an  instructive  discussion  of  the  intrica- 
cies, contradictions,  and  obscurities  of  the  theological  terms  used  in  these  con- 
troversies, see  Cardinal  Newman's  History  of  the  Arians,  Appendix,  432-444. 

8  How  the  same  expressions  become  orthodox  and  heterodox  in  turn  is  seen 
from  the  Homoousion  (see  Lectures  on  Eastern  Church,  Lecture  iv.  p.  137),  and 
from  the  adoption  by  Nestorius  and  the  denial  by  Cyril  of  words  officially  in- 
corporated with  the  Creed:  "Incarnate  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  the  Virgin 
Mary."     (Professor  Hort's  Dissertations,  112.) 


352  THE   COUNCIL   OF   EPHESUS.  [Chap.  XVI. 

spontaneous  conviction.  A  determined  mob  from  Con- 
stantinople —  from  Syria  —  from  Egypt  —  pressed  upon 
them  from  without.  It  was  like  the  tyranny  which  the 
Clubs  exercised  over  the  Convention,  in  the  time  of  the 
French  Revolution.  The  monks  were  for  the  most  part 
laymen,  but  laymen  charged  with  all  the  passions  of 
clergy.  The  religious  orders  of  the  West  have  never 
been  used  for  such  purposes,  nor,  it  must  be  added,  sub-' 
jected  to  such  treatment.  We  are  told  at  the  beginning 
of  the  conflict  tliat  Nestorius  himself  was  the  aggressor. 
The  monks,  who  were  the  first  to  catch  any  scent  of 
heresy,  were  in  the  first  instance  stripped  and  lashed  with 
loaded  whips  —  laid  on  the  ground  and  beat  as  they  lay. 
But  these  passions  and  penalties  were  not  confined  to 
one  party.  Cyril  brought  with  him  from  Alexandria  the 
savage  guard  of  his  palace,  the  Parabolani,  or  "  Death- 
defiers,"  whose  original  function  was  to  burj^  the  dead, 
but  whose  duty  it  now  became  to  protect  the  Archbishop 
against  all  enemies ;  the  sailors,  whose  rough  life  laid 
them  open  to  any  one  who  hired  them  ;  the  sturdy  por- 
ters and  beggars,  and  the  bathing-men  from  the  public 
baths.  These  men  sate  at  the  doors  of  the  Council,  and 
the  streets  ran  red  with  the  blood  which  they  shed  with- 
out scruple. 

Barsumas,  the  fierce  monk  with  his  band  of  anchorites 
as  fierce  as  himself,  came  thither  with  his  reputation 
ready  made  for  knocking  heretics  on  the  head  with  the 
huge  maces  which  he  and  his  companions  wielded  with 
terrible  force  on  any  one  who  opposed  them.  The  whole 
was  crowned  at  the  critical  moment  by  the  entrance  of  a 
body  of  soldiers  with  drawn  swords  and  charged  lances, 
or  with  chains  to  carry  ofE  the  refractory  members  to 
prison.  Some  hid  themselves  under  the  benches ;  some 
were  compelled  to  sign  the  decrees  in  blank.  Flavian, 
Archbishop  of  Constantinople,  lay  watching  for  the  mo- 


Chap.  XVL]  SINISTER   INFLUENCES.  353 

ment  of  escape,  when  Dioscorus,  the  Archbishop  of  Alex- 
andria, perceiving  him,  struck  him  in  the  face  witli  his 
fist;  the  two  deacons,  one  of  them  afterwards  himself 
Archbishop  of  Alexandria,  seized  him  round  the  waist 
and  dashed  him  to  the  ground.  Dioscorus.  kicked  the 
dying  man  on  the  sides  and  chest.  The  monks  of  Bar- 
sumas  struck  him  with  their  clubs  as  he  lay  on  the 
ground.  Barsumas  himself  cried  out  in  the  Syrian  lan- 
guage, "Kill  him,  kill  him."  He  expired  from  this  sav- 
age treatment  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 

Such  were  the  scenes  of  disorder,  reaching  their  height 
in  the  Council,  afterwards  called  the  Robber  Council  at 
Ephesus,^  but  of  which  the  indications  spread  through 
the  whole  period.  Dioscorus's  violence  differed  from  that 
of  Cyril  in  degree  only,  not  in  kind.  The  same  crowd  of 
ruffians  were  in  all  these  assemblies,  and  the  fate  which 
threatened  the  hesitating  bishops  was  similar. 

Another  influence,  more  gentle  and  more  orderly  but 
equally  potent,  was  that  of  the  Imperial  Court.  The- 
odosius  II.  and  his  wife  Eudocia  —  Marcian,  the  honest 
soldier,  and  his  wife  Pulcheria  —  were  never  absent  from 
the  thoughts  of  the  leaders  of  the  assemblies.  To  per- 
suade, cajole,  circumvent  the  Imperial  emissaries  was  the 
incessant  effort  of  either  side.  It  was  not  by  accident 
that  the  decision  of  each  of  these  assemblies  coincided 
with  the  opinions  of  the  high  personages  then  reigning 
in  the  court.  The  wavei'ing  mind  of  Theodosius  II.  was 
the  point  to  be  won  at  the  Council  of  Ephesus.  Chi-y- 
saphius,  the  great  courtier,  was  the  chief  supporter  of  the 
Robber  Council.  Marcian  and  Pulcheria  received  the 
tumultuous  acclamations  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon. 
"To  Marcian  the  new  Constantine  —  to  Pulcheria  the 
new  Helena."     The  personal   motives   of  each  of   these 

1  The  decrees  of  the  Council  were  directed  to  be  revised  at  Chalcedon,  but  the 
Imperial  Government  declined  to  condemn  the  Council  itself. 
23 


354  COUNCILS   OF  EPHESUS   AND   CHALCEDON.     [Chap.  XYI. 

high  personages  entered  deeply  into  the  controversy. 
Theodosius  Avas  the  enemy  of  any  one  who  brought  him 
into  trouble.  Chrysaphius  was  the  enemy  of  Archbishop 
Flavian,  who  had  refused  him  the  accustomed  fees  at 
Easter.  Pulcheria  was  influenced  by  jealousy  of  her  sis- 
ter-in-law Eudocia  and  her  hatred  of  Chrysaphius.  The 
letters  of  the  Emperors  were  reckoned  as  "sacred."  The 
Councils  wei-e  convoked  entirely  at  their  summons. 

Another  baser  element  in  these  considerations  was  the 
gross  bribery  practised  by  Cyril.  Together  with  this 
acted  the  influences,  not  unusual  in  such  controversies  — 
the  desertion  of  the  unpopular  cause  by  half-hearted 
friends  ;  N^estorius  abandoned  by  those  who  had  looked 
up  to  him  as  their  oracle  —  Dioscorus  left  alone  in  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon  by  those  who  had  followed  him 
through  all  his  violences  in  the  Robber  Council.  There 
was  also  that  which  always  produces  an  effect  on  a  mixed 
assembly — the  horror  expressed  by  weak-minded  disci- 
ples, who  profess  to  be  and  are  really  shocked  by  some 
rash  expression  on  the  part  of  their  master,  and  speaking 
with  bated  breath  and  tears  in  their  eyes  —  Acacius  of 
Mitylene  and  Theodotus  of  Ancyra ;  or  again  some  argu- 
mentative dialectician  who  wishes  to  push  all  arguments 
to  their  extremities,  such  as  Eusebius  of  Dorylseum,  the 
old  advocate  who  never  would  leave  the  simple  Eutyches 
to  himself. 

There  were  also  the  rivalries  of  the  great  sees ;  Alex- 
andria, twice  over,  in  the  person  of  Cyril  and  in  the  per- 
Personai  ^^^  ^f  Dioscorus,  irritated  by  the  preponderance 
inuueuces.  q£  Constantinople  and  of  Antioch — Rome,  at 
the  Robber  Council,  irritated  in  the  person  of  its  legates, 
who  vainly  endeavored  to  get  a  hearing  for  their  master's 
letter.  There  was  the  opening  for  every  kind  of  pri- 
vate rancor  —  discontented  deacons,  ambitious  priests,  de- 
nouncing their  bishops  when  the  occasion  offered,  before 


Chap.  XVI.]  LOCAL   INFLUENCES.  355 

the  commissioners  sent  down  by  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment. There  was  the  pardonable  weakness  of  the  bish- 
ops, afraid  of  their  constituencies,  afraid  of  their  congre- 
gations, afraid  of  their  clergy.  There  were  aged  prelates 
prostrate  on  the  floor,  with  their  faces  on  the  ground,  cry- 
ing, "  Have  mercy  upon  us  ;  have  pity  upon  us."  "  They 
will  kill  us  at  home."  "  Have  pity  on  our  gray  hairs." 
There  were  also  the  bishops  of  Asia,  alarmed  for  their 
popularity  if  they  sacrificed  the  privileges  of  the  see  of 
Ephesus.  "  Have  pity  upon  us  ;  they  will  murder  our 
children  ;  have  pity  on  our  children.;  have  pity  on  us." 
It  is  a  scene  which  reminds  us  of  the  most  pitiable  scenes 
in  the  elections  of  some  of  our  modern  representative 
assemblies. 

A  curious  circumstance  must  be  noticed  as  confirming 
the  decisions  of  both  assemblies,.  The  claim  of  Ephesus 
was  suggested  on  the  gi-ound  of  its  accessibility  Local  in- 
by  land  and  sea,  and  its  ample  supply  of  pro-  ^"®°<=®^- 
visions  in  the  wide  plain  of  the  Cayster.  But  there  was 
a  further  cause  not  mentioned,  not  perhaps  occurring  to 
those  who  summoned  the  Council,  but  which  materially 
contributed  to  its  final  result.  Ephesus  was  the  burial- 
place,  according  to  tradition,  of  the  Virgin  Mother,  who 
with  John  the  Evangelist  had  taken  refuge  there  in  the 
close  of  the  first  century.  The  church  in  which  the  as- 
sembly was  to  be  held  was  the  only  one  in  the  world  as 
yet  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary.  In  the  mind  of  the 
Ephesian  populace  she  had  taken  the  place  of  the  sacred 
image  of  Diana  which  had  so  excited  them  four  centuries 
earlier.  The  passions  of  the  people,  as  described  in  the 
nineteenth  chapter  of  the  Acts,  might  seem  to  have  been 
recalled  in  some  of  the  scenes  of  the  Council.  All  these 
circumstances  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  anti-Nes- 
torian  cause,  and,  although  the  honor  of  the  Virgin  was 
not  the  primary  cause  of  the  agitation  of  the  question, 


356       cx>rxciLS  of  ephests  axd  <xalcedos.    ?:h^=  xtl 

the  trimnpli  of  Criil's  party  in  Ephesos  r        t 

assodi. 

The  reasons  for  the  seleetion  <rf  Chalc.-—  -re  still 
more  Temarkable.  It  was  the  nearest  approach  to  Con- 
stantiiiople  without  being  in  the  city  itselL  Chalcedon 
was  Scatari.  It  was  that  splcoidid  promoDtoTT  dear  to 
Knglishmen,  dear  to  all  who  have  ever  from  its  height 
contemplated  that  ^onous  Tiew.  Et^i  in  that  age  the 
beaaty  of  the  sitoataon  attnuted  the  admirati<M  of  spee- 
tatofs.  Bnt  itwas  yet  more  than  this.  Hie  church  in 
which  the  Council  was  to  be  held  was  that  which  eoo- 
tained  the  remains  *  of  the  Tirgin  martyr  St.  Eaph^nia. 
She  was  the  oracle,  the  mirade-worker,  of  the  neighbtH"- 
hood.  The  Archbishop  of  C<mstantinopIe  cm  great  etnex- 
gencies  entered  the  shrine,  and  (like  the  Bishop  d  Petza 
on  like  occasions  with  the  sacred  fire  at  Jerusalem}  in- 
aated  a  sponge  into  the  tomb,  which  he  drew  out  filled 
widi  the  martyr's  blood,  which  was  then  distributed,  as  a 
cure  for  all  CTils,  to  all  parts  of  the  empire.  It  was  in 
this  same  tomb  that  at  the  close  of  the  Cooneil  the  mag- 
istrates and  bishops  placed  the  disputed  documents  which 
contained  the  faith  of  the  a^embly  ;  and  traditicm  added 
that  the  dead  woman  raised  in  her  hand  ihe  toU  which 
contained  the  true  doctiine.^  and  that  the  roll  which  ccmi- 
tained  the  heretical  doctrine  lay  dishonored  at  her  feet. 

The  whole  |Koceedings  of  the  Council  of  Eph^nu  ha^e 
been  summarized  by  an  eminent  personage  ^  who  knew 
what  he  was  saying,  and  said  what  he  meant. 

~  Even  those  Cofmcils  which  were  (B>?umenical  have 
nothing  to  boast  of  in  regard  to  the  Fathers,  taken  indi- 
vidually, which  compose  them.  They  appear  as  the  an- 
tagonist host  in  a  batde,  not  as  the  ^epherds  of  their 
people. 


1  Thn- vere  c&erwnis  tiMifciiii  to  Soat  Sopkia,  aad  iialiiiiUBill.i  In  ihi 
Abbey  U  Stimtt  Ffhf  ■»  m  QUbna. 

*  I  h»Tt  sea  pictBO  at  ^ffcm  mBiiiiiatit,  tkk  iimn'tm 

*  Carimai  Senuara  Bktmiai  StttAa,  p^  2S-337,  »•.  SL 


Chap.  XVI.]      CARDINAL   NEWMAN'S   DESCRIPTION.  357 

" '  What  is  the  good  of  a  Council,'  Cyril  would  say, 
'  when  the  controversy  is  already  settled  without  one  ?  ' 
in  something  like  the  frame  of  mind  of  the  great  cardinal 
Duke  of.  Wellington  years  ago,  when  he  spoke  de^crTpHon 
in  such  depreciatory  terms  of  a  '  county  meet-  ciV^/ed^' 
ing.'  ....  How  the  Emperor  fixed  the  meeting  ^^• 
of  the  Council  for  Pentecost,  June  7 ;  how  Nestorius 
made  his  appearance  with  a  body-guard  of  two  imperial 
cohorts;  how  Cyril  brought  up  his  fifty  Egyptian  Bishops, 
staunch  and  eager,  not  forgetting  to  add  to  them  the 
stout  seamen  of  his  transports ;  how  Memnon  had  a  fol- 
lowing of  forty  bishops,  and  reinforced  them  with  a  like 
body  of  sturdy  peasants  from  his  farms  ;  how  the  assem- 
bled Fathers  were  scared  and  bewildered  by  these  prepa- 
rations for  battle,  and,  wishing  it  all  over,  waited  with 
impatience  a  whole  fortnight  for  the  Syrian  bishops  while 
Cyril  preached  in  the  churches  against  Nestorius  ;  how  in 
the  course  of  this  fortnight  some  of  their  number  fell  sick 
and  died  ;  how  the  Syrians,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been 
thrown  out  by  the  distance  of  their  sees  from  Antioch 
(their  place  of  rendezvous),  from  the  length  of  the  land 
journey  thence  to  Ephesus,  by  the  wet  weather  and  the 
bad  roads,  by  the  loss  of  their  horses,  and  by  the  fatigue 
of  their  forced  marches  :  how  they  were  thought  by  Cyr- 
il's party  to  be  unpunctual  on  purpose,  but  by  them- 
selves to  be  most  unfortunate  in  their  tardiness,  because 
they  wished  to  shelter  Xestorius  ;  how,  when  they  were 
now  a  few  days'  journey  from  Ephesus,  they  sent  on 
hither  an  express'  to  herald  their  approach,  but  how  Cyril 
would  not  wait  beyond  the  fortnight,  though  neither  the 
Western  bishops  nor  even  the  Pope's  legates  had  yet  ar- 
rived ;  how  on  June  22  he  opened  the  Council  in  spite 
of  a  protest  from  sixty-one  out  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
bishops  there  assembled  ;  how  within  one  summer's  day 
he  cited,  condemned,  deposed,  and  degraded  Nestorius, 


358         COUNCILS   OF   EPHESUS  AND   CHALCEDON.      [Chap.  XVI. 

and  passed  his  twelve  theses  of  doctrine  called  'Anathe- 
matisms,'  which  the  Pope  apparently  had  never  seen,  and 
which  the  Syrian  bishops,  then  on  their  way  to  Ephesus, 
had  repudiated  the  year  before  as  Apollinarian ;  and  how, 
as  if  reckless  of  this  imputation,  he  suffeivd  to  stand 
among  the  formal  testimonies  to  guide  the  Bishops  in 
their  decision  gathered  from  the  Fathers,  and  still  extant, 
an  extract  from  a  writing  of  Timotheus,  the  Apollinarian, 
if  not  of  ApoUinarius  himself,  ascribing  this  heretical 
document  to  Pope  Julius,  the  friend  of  Athanasius ;  how 
in  the  business  of  the  Council  he  showed  himselt  confi- 
dential with  Eutyches,  afterwards  the  author  of  that  very 
Monophysite  heresy  of  which  ApoUinarius  was  the  fore- 
runner ;  how  on  the  fifth  day  after  these  proceedings  the 
Syrian  bishops  arrived,  and  at  once,  with  the  protection 
of  an  armed  force,  and  without  tlie  due  forms  of  ecclesi- 
astic law,  held  a  separate  Council  of  forty-three  bishops, 
Theodoret  being  one  of  them,  and  anathematized  Cyril 
and  Memnon  and  their  followers  ;  and  how  the  Council 
terminated  in  a  discussion,  which  continued  for  nearly 
two  years  after  it,  till  at  length  Cyril,  John,  and  Theodo- 
ret, and  the  others  on  either  side,  made  up  the  quarrel 
by  mutual  explanations — all  this  is  matter  of  history." 

Such  is  the  summary  of  one  not  likely  to  overcharge 
the  picture  of  the  misdeeds  of  the  Council  of  Ephesus. 
We  will  add  the  literal  report  of  some  of  the  scenes  that 
took  place  at  the  Council  of  Chalcedon.  It  is  from  the 
Acts  of  the  Council. 1 

"  The  illustrious  Judges  and  the  honorable  Senate  or- 
dered that  the  most  reverend  Bishop  Theodoret  should 
Report  of  enter,  that  he  may  be  a  partaker  of  the  Council, 
of  chake"^  because  the  holy  Archbishop  Leo  had  restored 
^°'^-  the  bishopric  to  him ;  and  the  most  sacred  and 

pious  Emperor  has  determined  that  he  is  to  be  present  at 

1  Hardouin,  ii.  74. 


Chap.  XVI.]      REPORT    OF   THE   COUNCIL    OF   CHALCEDON.      359 

the  Holy  Council.  And  on  the  entrance  of  Theodoret, 
the  most  reverend  bishops  of  Egypt,  Illyricum,  and  Pal- 
estine called  out :  '  Have  mercy  upon  us  !  The  faith  is 
destroyed.  The  Canons  cast  him  out.  Cast  out  the 
teacher  of  Nestorius.'  The  most  religious  bishops  of  the 
East  and  those  of  Pontus,  Asia,  and  Thrace  shouted  out : 
'  We  had  to  sign  a  blank  paper ;  we  were  scourged,  and 
so  we  signed.  Cast  out  the  Manichgeans ;  cast  out  the 
enemies  of  Flavian  ;  cast  out  the  enemies  of  the  Faith.' 
Dioscorus,  the  most  religious  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  said  : 
'  Why  is  Cyril  cast  out  ?  He  it  is  who  is  anathematized 
by  Theodoret.'  The  Eastern  and  Pontic  and  Asian  and 
Thracian  most  religious  bishops  shouted  out :  '  Cast  out 
Dioscorus  the  murderer.  Who  does  not  know  the  deeds 
of  Dioscorus  ? '  The  Egyptian  and  the  Illyrian  and  the 
Palestinian  most  religious  bishops  shouted  out :  '  Long 
years  to  the  Empress  ! '  The  Eastern  and  the  most  relig- 
ious bishops  with  them  shouted  out:  'Cast  out  the  mur-' 
derers  ! '  The  Egyptians  and  the  most  religious  bishops 
with  them  shouted  out :  '  The  Empress  has  cast  out  Nes- 
torius. Long  years  to  the  Orthodox  Empress.  The 
Council  will  not  receive  Theodoret.'  Theodoret,  the 
most  religious  bishop,  came  up  into  the  midst  and  said  : 
'  I  have  offered  petitions  to  the  most  godlike,  most  relig- 
ious and  Christ-loving  masters  of  the  world,  and  I  have 
related  the  disasters  which  have  befallen  me,  and  I  claim 
that  they  shall  be  read.'  The  most  illustrious  Judges 
and  the  most  honorable  Senate  said  :  '  Theodoret,  the 
most  religious  bishop,  having  received  his  proper  place 
from  the  most  holy  Archbishop  of  the  renowned  Rome, 
has  occupied  now  the  place  of  an  accuser.  Wherefore 
suffer  that  there  be  not  confusion  at  the  hearing,  and  that 
the  things  which  have  had  a  beginning  may  be  finished, 
for  prejudice  from  the  appearance  of  the  most  religious 
Theodoret  will   occur  to  no  one,  reserving   afterwards 


360  THE   COUNCIL    OF   CHALCEDON.  [Chap.  XVI. 

every  argument  for  you  and  for  him  if  you  desire  to  make 
one  'on  one  side  or  the  other;  especially  if  without  writing 
there  appears  to  be  a  testimony  to  his  orthodoxy  from 
the  most  religious  Bishop  of  Antioch,  the  Great  City.' 
And  after  Theodoret,  the  most  religious  bishop,  had  sat 
down  in  the  midst,  the  Eastern  and  the  most  religious 
bishops  who  were  with  them  shouted  out:  '  He  is  worthy! 
He  is  worthy  ! '  The  Egyptians  and  the  most  religious 
bishops  who  were  with  them  shouted  out :  '  Do  not  call 
him  a  bishop.  He  is  not  a  bishop.  Cast  out  the  fighter 
against  God !  Cast  out  the  Jew ! '  The  Easterns  and 
the  most  religious  bishops  who  were  with  them  shouted 
out :  '  The  Orthodox  for  the  Council !  Cast  out  the 
rebels  !  Cast  out  the  murderers  !  '  The  Egyptians  and 
the  most  religious  bishops  who  were  with  them  shouted 
out :  '  Cast  out  the  fighter  against  God !  Cast  out  the 
insulter  against  Christ!  Long  years  to  the  Empress! 
Long  years  to  the  Emperor  !  Long  years  to  the  Ortho- 
dox Emperor!  Theodoret  has  anathematized  Cyril.'  The 
Easterns  and  the  most  religious  bishops  who  were  with 
them  shouted  out :  '  Cast  out  the  murderer  Dioscorus  ! ' 
The  Egyptians  and  the  most  religious  bishops  with  them 
shouted  out :  '  Long  years  to  the  Senate !  He  has  not 
the  right  of  speech.  He  is  expelled  from  the  whole 
Synod  ! '  Basil,  the  most  religious  Bishop  of  Trajanopolis, 
in  the  province  of  Rhodope,  rose  up  and  said :  '  Theodo- 
ret has  been  condemned  by  us.'  The  Egyptians  and  the 
most  religious  bishops  wath  them  shouted  out :  '  Theodo- 
ret has  accused  Cyril.  We  cast  out  Cyril  if  we  receive 
Theodoret.  The  Canons  cast  out  Theodoret.  God  has 
turned  away  from  him.'  The  most  illustrious  Judges 
and  the  most  honorable  Senate  said :  '  These  vulgar  cries 
are  not  worthy  of  bishops,  nor  will  they  assist  either  side. 
Suffer,  therefore,  the  reading  of  all  the  documents.'  The 
Egyptians  and   the   most   religious   bishops  with  them 


Chap.  XVI.]   REPORT  OF  THE  COUNCIL  OF  CHALCEDON.   361 

shouted  out :  '  Cast  out  one  man,  and  we  will  all  hear. 
We  shout  out  in  the  Cause  of  Religion.  We  say  these 
things  for  the  sake  of  the  Orthodox  Faith.'  The  most 
illustrious  Judges  and  the  honorable  Senate  said :  '  Rather 
acquiesce,  in  God's  name,  that  the  hearing  of  the  docu- 
ments should  take  place,  and  concede  that  all  shall  be 
read  in  proper  order.'  And  at  last  they  were  silent. 
And  Constantine,  the  most  holy  Secretary  and  Magis- 
trate of  the  Divine  Synod,  read  these  documents." 

One  more  painful  scene  must  be  given  —  the  insist- 
ance  that  Theodoret  should  pronounce  a  curse  on  his  an- 
cient friend.  "  The  most  reverend  bishops  all  stood 
before  the  rails  of  the  most  holy  altar  and  shouted : 
'  Theodoret  must  now  anathematize  Nestorius.'  Theo- 
doret, the  most  reverend  bishop,  passed  into  the  midst 
and  said  :  '  I  gave  my  petition  to  the  most  divine  and 
religious  Emperor,  and  I  gave  the  documents  to  the  most 
reverend  bishops  occupying  the  place  of  the  most  sacred 
Archbishop  Leo ;  and,  if  you  think  fit,  they  shall  be  sent 
to  you,  and  you  will  know  what  I  think.'  The  most 
reverend  bishops  shouted :  '  We  want  nothing  to  be 
read  —  only  anathematize  Nestorius.'  Theodoret,  the 
most  reverend  bishop,  said :  '  I  was  brought  up  by  the 
orthodox,  I  was  taught  by  the  orthodox,  I  have  preached 
orthodoxy,  and  not  only  Nestorius  and  Eutyches,  but 
any  man  who  thinks  not  rightly,  I  avoid  and  count  him 
an  alien.'  The  most  reverend  bishops  shouted  out: 
'  Speak  plainly  ;  anathema  to  Nestorius  and  his  doctrine 
—  anathema  to  Nestorius  and  to  those  who  befriend 
him  ! '  "  Theodoret,  the  most  reverend  bishop,  said : 
"  Of  truth  I  do  not  speak,  except  that  the  Creed  is  pleas- 
ing to  God.  I  came  to  satisfy  you,  not  because  I  think 
of  my  country,  not  because  I  desire  honor,  but  because  I 
have  been  falsely  accused,  and  I  anathematize  every  im- 
penitent heretic.      I  anathematize  Nestorius  and  Euty- 


362  THE   COUNCIL   OF   CHALCEDON.  [Chap.  XVI. 

ches,  and  every  one  who  says  that  there  are  two  Sons." 
Whilst  he  was  speaking,  the  most  reverend  bishops 
shouted  out :  "  Speak  phiinly  ;  anathematize  Nestorius 
and  those  who  think  with  him."  Tlieodoi-et,  the  most 
reverend  bishop,  said :  "  Unless  I  set  forth  at  length  my 
faith  I  cannot  speak.  I  believe "  —  And  whilst  he 
spoke  the  most  reverend  bishops  shouted  :  "  He  is  a  her- 
etic !  he  is  a  Nestorian  !  Thou  art  the  heretic  !  Anath- 
ema to  Nestorius  and  to  any  one  who  does  not  say  that 
the  Holy  Virgin  Mary  is  the  Parent  of  God,  and  who 
divides  the  only  begotten  Son  into  two  Sons."  The- 
odoret,  the  most  reverend  bishop,  said  :  "  Anathema  to 
Nestorius  and  to  whoever  denies  that  the  Holy  Virgin 
Mary  is  the  Parent  of  God,  and  who  divides  the  only  be- 
gotten Son  into  two  Sons.  I  have  subscribed  the  defi- 
nition of  faith  and  the  epistle  of  the  most  holy  Arch- 
bishop Leo."     And  after  all  this  he  said,  "  Farewell."  ^ 

It  is  the  conduct  of  the  3d  and  4th  Councils  in  their 
collective  capacity  which  more  than  justifies  the  objec- 
tions of  Gregory  Nazianzen  to  the  2d  Council.  It  is  this 
which  represents  the  official  voice  of  the  clergy  of  the 
Church  in  that  age.  The  only  glimmer  of  common  sense 
and  charity  is  in  the  conduct  of  the  Imperial  Commis- 
sioners, who  controlled  and  guided  the  Council  of  Chal- 
cedon.  The  faithfulness  of  the  reporters  lets  us  see  step 
by  step  Theodoret's  agonizing  reluctance  openly  to  disa- 
vow his  friend,  and  at  last  his  indignant  "  Farewell." 

But  there  is  discernible  at  times  the  indication  of  a 
better  feeling  through  this  furious  party  spirit.  John  of 
Moderate  Autioch  with  "the  eastem  bishops  "  —  Flavian 
tendencies,  l^inigelf  at  the  earlier  period  —  resolutely  con- 
tinued to  insist  on  the  duty  of  conciliatory  measures. 
The  Archbishop  of  Rome,  also,  especially  after  the  ex- 
perience of  the  Robber  Council,  recommended  a  halt  in 

1  Hardouin,  ii.  448. 


Chap.  XVI.]  MODERATE   TENDENCIES.  363 

the  vehement  pursuit  after  heresy,  and  to  be  content 
with  letting  things  alone.  Above  all  there  is  the  one 
man,  Theodoret,  whose  position,  with  many  drawbacks, 
may  in  some  respects  be  compared  to  the  isolated  posi- 
tion of  Lord  Falkland.  He  had  the  courasre  to  defend 
his  former  friend  Nestorius  —  to  declare  that  he  had 
never  been  properly  deposed,  and  that  his  successor 
would  be  an  usurper.  He  submitted  at  the  last,  and 
brought  his  ancient  friend  Alexander  of  Hierapolis  to 
submit  also,  but  only  for  the  sake  of  peace.  He  rejoiced 
with  an  exceeding  joy  on  hearing  of  the  repose  of  the 
Christian  world  on  the  death  of  the  turbulent  Cyril  — 
"  The  East  and  Egypt  are  henceforth  united  ;  envy  is 
dead, "and  heresy  is  buried  with  her."  ^  He  was  still  at- 
tacked with  ignoble  animosity  by  Dioscorus.  But  on  the 
whole,  and  with  a  formal  submission  on  his  part,  he  was 
accepted.  The  admiration  in  which  he  was  held  is  to  a 
certain  degree  an  anticipation  of  the  judgment  of  the 
English  historian,  —  "  Who  would  not  meet  the  judg- 
ment of  the  Divine  Redeemer  loaded  with  the  errors  of 
Nestorius  rather  than  with  the  barbarities  of  Cyril?  "^ 
It  may  also  be  a  comment  on  the  saying  of  the  contem- 
porary Isidore,  "  Sympathy  such  as  Theodoret's  may  not 
see  clearly,  but  antipathy  such  as  Cyril's  does  not  see  at 
all."  3 

It  was  in  accordance  with  this  more  moderate  feeling 
that  we  may  believe  the  decree  to  have  been  issued 
which  has  made  the  Council  of  Ephesus  memorable. 

In  the  sixth  session,  in  a  spirit  which  endeavored  to 
control  the  ardor  of  controversy,  it  was  ordered  that  no 

1  The  genuineness  of  this  letter  has  been  doubted,  but  chiefly  because  of  its 
attack  on  Cyril.  It  was  quoted  against  Theodoret  at  the  fifth  General  Council. 
See  the  question  argued  on  both  sides  in  Hefele,  iii.  p.  851. 

2  Milman's  Latin  Christianity,  i.  145. 

8  Quoted  in  Cardinal  Newman's  Historical  Sketches,  ii.  356.  The  whole  let- 
ter is  worth  reading. 


364  THE   COUNCIL    OF   EPHESUS.  [Chap.  XVI. 

one  should  set  forth  or  put  together  or  compose  any  creed 
Decree  of  other  1' thau  that  defined  at  Nicoea  on  pain  of 
Sains"!  deposition  if  clergy,  of  excommunication  if  laity, 
new  Creed,  rpj^^  original  form  of  the  Creed  of  Nicfea,  which 
this  decree  is  intended  to  guard,  must  here  be  given :  — 

We  believe  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  all 
things  both  visible  and  invisible ;  and  in  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  begotten  from  the  Father,  only  begotten,  that 
is  to  say,  from  the  substance  of  the  Father ;  God  of  God,  Light 
of  Light,  true  God  of  true  God ;  begotten,  not  made  ;  of  one 
substance  with  the  Father  ;  by  Whom  all  things  were  made, 
both  things  in  heaven  and  things  on  the  earth ;  Who  for  us 
men  and  for  our  salvation  came  down,  and  was  made  flesh  ;  was 
made  man,  suffered,  and  rose  again  on  the  third  day ;  ascended 
into  the  heavens  ;  cometh  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead  ;  and 
in  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  those  who  say  there  was  a  time  when 
He  was  not,  and  before  being  begotten  He  was  not,  and  that 
He  came  out  of  what  was  not  existing,  or  that  He  is  of  another 
person  (vTrocxTao-ecos)  or  essence  (ovaia),  or  is  created,  or  is  vari- 
able, or  is  changeable,  —  all  these  the  Catholic  and  Apostolic 
Church  anathematizes. 

With  this  decision  the  Council  of  Ephesus  believed 
that  it  had  forever  excluded  the  possibility  of  any  new 
confession  of  faith,  and  had  placed  the  Creed  of  Nicjea 
on  an  impregnable  basis.  The  motive  is  obvious  :  to 
protect  what  had  already  been  done  in  the  first  General 
Council,  and  to  guard  against  the  multiplication  of 
creeds,  of  which  that  age  had  already  had  sufficient  ex- 
perience. It  is  curious  that  in  both  particulars  this  de- 
cree entirely  failed.  The  Creed  of  Nicsea,  as  thus  set 
forth,  has  now  been  discontinued  throughout  the  whole 
Church  of  the  West,  and,  with    the    exception  of    the 

1  It  has  been  argued  that  irepav  means  of  "a  discordant  creed,"  and  is  dis- 
tinguished from  aWrfv,  "another."  This  is  completely  disproved  by  Professor 
Swainson,  Nicene  and  Apostles'  Creeds  Compared,  p.  166,  who  shows  that  the 
two  words  were  used  promiscuously. 


Chap.  XVI.]      CREED  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE.  365 

Monophysite,  Nestorian,  and  perhaps  the  Armenian 
Churches,^  throughout  the  whole  Church  of  the  East. 
Its  anathemas  are  no  longer  recited,  although  in  the  time 
of  its  first  promulgation  they  were  regarded  as  of  the  ut- 
most importance ;  ^  and  in  other  respects,  as  shall  be  no- 
ticed presently,  its  contents  have  undergone  serious  mod- 
ifications. The  creeds  which  it  was  intended  to  prevent 
have  been  multiplied  beyond  imagination  in  the  number- 
less creeds  of  the  fifth  century,  the  Athanasian  Creed  of 
the  ninth,  the  confessions  of  Trent,  Augsburg,  Geneva, 
and  London  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

It  is  by  no  means  clear  by  what  process  the  change 
was  effected,  but  we  can  faintly  trace  it  through  the  dis- 
cussions of  the  time.     The  first  step,  as  usual 

1  .  .  1  .  Creed  of 

in  these  innovations,  was  the  most  momentous,  constanti- 
Previous  to  the  Council  of  Constantinople, 
which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  adopted  no  creed  of  its 
own,  there  was  a  creed  existing  in  the  writings  of  Epi- 
phanius,^  which  agreed  in  many  respects  with  the  creed 
now  commonly,  but  erroneously,  known  as  the  Creed  of 
Constantinople.  Besides  this,  there  is  a  considerable  re- 
semblance between  the  present  form  of  that  creed  and 
what  is  preserved  to  us  as  the  Creed  of  Jerusalem  *  in  the 
writings  of  Cyril,  the  bishop  of  that  city.  There  is,  fur- 
ther, a  late  tradition  that  the  form  of  the  creed  now  pro- 
fessing to  be  that  of  Constantinople  was  drawn  up  by 
Gregory  of  Nyssa,  who  was  present,  as  we  have  seen,  in 
that  assembly.  But  it  was  in  the  Council  of  Chalcedon, 
for  the  first  time,  that  we  have  the  startling  announce- 
ment made  by  Aetius,  Archdeacon  of  Constantinople, 
that   he  was  going  to  read  what  had  been   determined 

1  See  Swainson's  Nicene  and  Apostles'  Creeds  Compared,  p.  143. 

2  See  Lectures  on  Eastern  Church,  Lect.  IV. 

8  Epiphanius,  Anchoratus  (pp.  77-83),  A.  d.  374. 

4  See  Hort's  Dissertations,  p.  74,  in  which  it  is  arpued  with  much  learning 
that  the  Creed  was  on  the  basis  of  the  Creed  of  Jerusalem. 


366  CREED    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.  [Chat.  XVI. 

upon  by  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  bishops  congregated 
in  Constantinople.  It  is  conjectured  that,  from  one  or 
other  of  the  three  sources  indicated,  from  the  writino-s  of 
Epiphanius,  or  of  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  or  of  Gregory  of 
Nyssa,  this  creed  may  have  been  the  subject  of  some 
conversation  in  the  Council  of  Constantinople,  and  that 
this  was  made  the  ground  or  the  pi-etext  of  its  being  rep- 
resented by  Aetius  as  the  Creed  of  that  Council  itself. 
The  accuracy  of  Aetius,  as  of  the  other  members  of  the 
Council,  is  not  above  suspicion.^  The  creed  was  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"We  believe  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almightj,  Maker  of 
heaven  and  earth,  and  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible ;  and  in 
one  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God.  the  only  begotten,  Who 
was  begotten  from  the  Father  before  all  worlds,  Light  of  Light, 
true  God  of  true  God  ;  begotten,  not  made  ;  of  one  substance 
with  the  Father,  by  "Whom  aU  things  exist ;  "Who  for  us  men 
and  for  our  salvation  came  down  and  was  made  flesh  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  and  of  Mary  the  Virgin,  and  was  made  man.  and 
was  crucified  for  us  under  Pontius  Pilate,  and  suffered  and  was 
buried,  and  rose  again  the  third  day  according  to  the  Scriptures, 
and  ascended  into  the  heavens,  and  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
the  Father,  and  cometh  again  with  glory  to  judge  the  quick  and 
the  dead  ;  of  whose  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end  ;  and  in  the 
Spirit,  which  is  holy,  which  is  sovereign  and  lifegiving,  which 
proceedeth  from  the  Father  ;  "Which  with  the  Father  and  the 
Son  is  worshipped  and  glorified ;  Which  spake  by  the  prophets  ; 
in  one  holy  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church ;  we  acknowledge 
one  Baptism  for  the  remission  of  sins ;  we  look  for  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead,  and  the  life  of  the  world  to  come. 

This  creed,  although  twice  formally  recited  at  the  Coun- 
cil of  Chalcedon,  yet  was  not  allowed  to  take  the  exclu- 
sive place  given  by  the  Council  of  Ephesus  to  the  Creed 

1  Swainson's  Xicene  and  Apostles"  Creeds,  pp.  94-96  ;  Tillemont,  Lx.  p.  421; 
xiv.  p.  442 ;  Hort's  Dissertations,  pp.  74-76. 


Chap.  XVI.]  CREED    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.  367 

of  Nicsea.  The  decree  of  Epliesus  was  still  sufficiently 
powerful  to  restrain  ttie  Chalcedonian  Fathers  from  in- 
troducing this  creed,  so-called  of  Constantinople,  into  the 
place  of  the  one  authorized  Confession  of  Faith.  But  as 
time  rolled  on  this  provision  was  doubly  set  aside.  The 
Creed  of  Nicsea,  as  we  have  seen,  is  now  read  in  no  Euro- 
pean church  ;  and  the  creed,  professedly  of  Constanti- 
nople, really  the  production  of  some  unknown  church  or 
father,  gradually  superseded  it.  The  Emperor  Justin, 
in  the  year  568,  first  ordered  that  it  should  be  recited 
in  the  public  services  of  the  Church  ;  and  from  that  mo- 
ment it  has  assumed  its  present  position. 

It  is  difficult  to  trace  precisely  the  motives  by  which 
this  great  change  was  effected.  It  would  appear,  how- 
ever, to  have  been  the  result  of  that  lull  in  ecclesiastical 
controversy  which  succeeded  to  the  terrible  scenes  of  the 
Ephesian  and  Chalcedonian  Councils.^  Some  of  the  ad- 
ditions to  the  Nicene  Creed  might  have  seemed  to  have 
incurred  the  censure  of  the  Ephesian  Council  not  only  in 
the  letter  but  in  the  spirit.  The  clause,  "  He  was  begot- 
ten of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  Mary  the  Virgin,"  2  did 
not  exist  in  the  Creed  of  Nicsea,  and  was  in  fact  vehe- 
mently contested  in  the  Council  of  Ephesus,  as  having 
been  brought  forward  by  Nestorius  and  as  expre.ssive  of 
his  view.  The  clauses  also  relating  to  the  Divine  Spirit 
were  not  contained  in  the  original  Creed  of  Nicaea,  and 
were  perhaps  added  in  order  to  meet  the  Macedonian 
heretics.  The  omission  or  transposition  of  the  words 
"God  of  God,"  "the  Only  begotten,"  "that  is  to  say, 
from  the  substance  of  the  Father,"  are,  to  say  the  least, 
unwarranted  interferences  with  a  document  where  every 
word  and  every  position  of  every  word  are  deemed  of  im- 
portance.    But  the  Creed  of  Chalcedon  (or  Constantino- 

1  Hort's  Dissertations,  pp.  110-136. 

2  Jbid.  p.  112. 


368  CREED   OF    CONSTANTINOPLE.  [Chap.  XVI. 

pie),  however  doubtful  its  origin,  may  still  be  regarded 
as,  on  the  whole,  an  improvement  on  that  memorable 
document  which  it  supplanted,  although  under  the  pen- 
alty of  deprivation  of  their  orders  to  all  the  clergy  and 
bishops  who  use  it,  and  of  excommunication  to  the  laity 
who  adopt  it.  The  acquiescence  (if  so  be)  of  the  original 
Council  of  Constantinople  in  a  private  document  which 
came  before  them,  sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  Cyril 
of  Jerusalem  and  of  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  would  be  in  con- 
formity with  the  abstinence  from  further  dogmatism  into 
■which  they  were  driven  almost  inevitably  by  a  weariness 
of  the  whole  transaction  in  which  they  were  involved. 
With  this  also  would  agree  the  more  moderate  counsels 
which  we  have  already  noticed,  belonging  to  what  may 
be  called  the  central  party  at  Ephesus  and  Chalcedon,  and 
the  deference  at  last  paid  to  Theodoret.  The  total  omis- 
sion of  the  Nicene  anathemas  was  a  distinct  step  in  this 
direction.  The  condemnation  of  any  one  who  expressed 
that  the  Son  was  of  a  different  "person  "  (or  "  hyposta- 
sis ")  from  the  Father  might  well  become  startling  to 
those  who  were  becoming  familiar  with  the  later  formula, 
which  at  last  issued  in  the  directly  contrary  proposition 
by  pronouncing  a  like  anathema  on  any  one  who  main- 
tained that  He  was  of  the  same  "  hypostasis." 

It  was  one  of  the  constant  charges  against  Basil  and 
Gregory  that  they  were  unwilling  to  define  precisely  and 
polemically  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  Those 
who  read  the  exposition  of  this  doctrine  as  set  forth  in 
the  Gi'eek  ^  of  these  clauses  will  be  surprised  to  see  how 
wonderfully  the  harshnesses  and  rouglinesses  that  appear 
in  the  English  or  Latin  translation  disappear  in  the  sub- 
tle, yet   simple,    language  of    the   originaL      What   may 

^   To   nvtvtia,  TO   Kvpuiv,  to   ^toonoiov,  to  (k  toD    Ilarpot  exTropevoiJievoi',  to   <rvv    Tlarpi 
<cai  Yiii  aviXTTpo<TKVVovtJ.evov  avvBo^a^ixivov,  to   XoA^ai'   6ia  Toil'  lipopriTtov'  compared 

with  "  the  Lord  and  Giver  of  Life,  who  proceedeth  from  the  Father  and  the 
Son,"  etc.     (See  Hort,  pp.  82,  85,  86.) 


Chap.  XVI.] 


ITS   MERITS.  369 


have  been  the  feelings  of  the  followers  of  Macedonius  we 
know  not ;  but  we  may  be  certain  that  no  sect  now  exist- 
ing, whether  belonging  to  the  so-called  orthodox  or  the 
so-called  heretical  churches,  could  find  any  difficulty  in 
accepting,  in  their  original  form,  the  abstract  and  general 
phrases  in  which  the  Biblical  doctrine  of  the  imperson- 
ality and  neutrality  of  the  Sacred  Influence  is  set  forth. 

Again,  the  limitation  of  the  holy  inspiration  (the 
"  Holy  Spirit  spoke  by  the  prophets  ")  is  a  remarkable 
instance  at  once  of  insight  into  the  true  nature  of  the 
Biblical  writings,  and  also  of  the  moderation  of  the  high- 
est minds  of  that  age,  compared  with  the  fanciful  and  ex- 
travagant theories  that  have  sometimes  prevailed  in  mod- 
ern times  on  that  subject.  The  other  parts  of  the  Bible, 
the  other  writings  of  the  great  and  good,  are  no  doubt 
the  offspring  of  the  Divine  Mind,  but  it  is  in  the  pro- 
phetical writings  that  the  essence  of  Christian  morality 
and  doctrine  is  brought  out. 

Yet  once  more,  the  definition  of  Baptism  ("  I  believe 
in  one  Baptism  for  the  remission  of  sins"),  which  has 
been  sometimes  quoted  as  if  decisive  of  the  whole  ques- 
tion then  at  issue  on  the  intricate  question  of  the  mystical 
or  moral  effect  of  Baptism,  is  couched  in  terms  so  stu- 
diously general  as  to  include  not  only  Christian  Baptism, 
but  the  Baptism  of  John,  from  which,  in  the  language  of 
technical  theology,  no  transcendental  operations  could  be 
expected.  Only  by  the  most  violent  anachronisms  and 
distortions  of  language  can  the  scholastic  doctrines  of  the 
sudden  transformation  of  baptized  infants  be^  imported 
into  words  which  embrace  the  doctrine  of  Baptism  in  the 
largest  formula  which  the  comprehensive  language  of 
Scripture  has  furnished.^ 

Again,  the  questionable  phrase,  "  the  Resurrection  of 

1  See  Chapter  I. 
24 


370  CREED    OF   CONSTANTINOPLE.  [Chap.  XVI. 

the  F/.erh  "  in  the  Apostles'  Creed  is  here  represented  by 
the  Biblical' expression,  "  Resurrection  of  the  Dead." 

Lastly,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Nicephorus  ascribes  all 
these  changes  to  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  whose  great  name,  if 
he  in  any  way  took  them  up,  would,  more  than  any  other 
single  cause,  have  led  to  their  popular  acceptance,  not 
only  from  his  own  learning  and  genius,  but  from  the  fame 
of  his  brother  Basil,  and  from  the  influence  —  at  any  rate 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Council  —  of  his  friend.  The 
tradition  that  these  words  were  derived  from  Gregory  of 
Nyssa,  whether  borne  out  by  historical  evidence  or  not, 
has  never  been  disputed  on  dogmatical  grounds,  is  im- 
portant as  showing  that  the  orthodox  Eastern  Church  was 
not  ashamed  of  receiving  its  most  solemn  declaration  of 
Christian  faith  from  one  who,  had  he  lived  in  our  times, 
would  have  been  pronounced  by  some  as  a  dangerous 
heretic.  There  can  be  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  any  one  ^ 
who  has  examined  his  writings  —  and  it  is  freely  admit- 
ted, indeed  urged,  by  theologians  without  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  latitudinarianism  —  that  Gregory  of  Nyssa 
held  the  opinion  shared  with  him  by  Origen,  and  al- 
though less  distinctly  by  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  that 
there  was  a  hope  for  the  final  restoration  of  the  wicked 
in  the  other  world.  And  whether  or  not  he  actually 
drew  up  the  concluding  clauses  of  the  so-called  Creed  of 
Constantinople,  there  is  no  doubt  that  Gregory  of  Nyssa 
was  present  at  the  Council  of  Constantinople  —  that  he, 
if  any   one,   must   have  impressed   his  own  sense  upon 

1  See  especially  Catech.  Oral.  ch.  xxvi.  De  iis  qui  prematura  abripiiintur, 
ch.  XV.  De  Anima  et  Resurrectione  (on  Phil.  ii.  10;  1  Cor.  xv.  28).  The  con- 
trary has  been  maintained  by  a  recent  writer,  Vincenzo,  in  four  volumes,  on  the 
writings  of  Gregory  of  Nyssa.  But  this  is  done,  not  as  in  former  times  (Tille- 
mont,  vol.  ix.  p.  G02),  by  denying  the  genuineness  of  the  passages  cited  in  fa- 
vor of  the  milder  view,  but  by  quoting  passages  from  other  parts  of  his  works, 
containing  apparently  contradictory  sentiments.  This  might  be  done  equally  in 
the  case  of  Origen,  of  Archbishop  Tillotson,  and  of  Bishop  Newton,  and  to  any 
one  who  knows  the  writings  of  that  age  prove  absolutely  nothing. 


Chap.  XVI.]  ITS   MERITS.  371 

them  —  and  that  to  him,  and  through  him  to  the  Council, 
the  clause  which  speaks  of  the  "  life  in  the  world  to 
come  "  must  have  included  the  hope  that  the  Divine  jus- 
tice and  mercy  are  not  controlled  by  the  powers  of  evil, 
that  sin  is  not  eternal,  and  that  in  that  "  world  to  come  " 
punishment  will  be  corrective  and  not  final,  and  will  be 
ordered  by  a  Love  and  Justice,  the  height  and  depth  of 
which  is  beyond  the  narrow  thoughts  of  man  to  con- 
ceive. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE  TEN    COMMANDMENTS. 

The  Ten  Commandments  were  always  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church  united  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the 
Creed  (whether  longer  or  shorter)  as  a  Christian  Insti- 
tution. In  earlier  Catholic  times  they  were  used  as  a 
framework  of  moral  precepts  ;  in  Protestant  times  they 
were  written  conspicuously  in  the  churches.  In  either 
case  there  are  important  principles  involved  in  the  prom- 
inence thus  given  to  them  which  demand  consideration. 
In  order  to  do  this  we  must  trace  the  facts  to  their  Jew- 
ish origin. 

I.  Let  us  first  examine  what  were  the  Ten  Command- 
otitward  ments  in  their  outward  form  and  appearance 
*°™.  when  they  were  last  seen  by  mortal  eyes  as  the 

ark  was  placed  in  Solomon's  Temple. 

1.  They  were  written  on  two  tables  or  blocks  of  stone 
or  rock.  The  mountains  of  Sinai  are  of  red  and  white 
Israelite  ar-  gr'^^ite.  On  two  blocks  of  this  granite  rock  — 
rangements.  ^^^  j^-^^gj.  jesting  and  almost  the  oldest  kind  of 
rock  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  world,  as  if  to  remind  us 
that  these  Laws  were  to  be  the  beginning  and  tlie  end 
of  all  things  —  were  the  Ten  Commandments,  the  Ten 
Words,  written.  They  were  written,  not  as  we  now 
write  them,  only  on  one  side  of  each  of  the  two  tables, 
but  on  both  sides,  so  as  to  give  the  idea  of  absolute  com- 
pleteness and  solidity.  Each  block  of  stone  was  covered 
behind  and  before  with  the  sacred  letters.  Again,  they 
were  not  arranged  as  we  now  arrange  them.     In  the 


Chap.  XVII.]  THEIR   ARRANGEMENT.  373 

Fourth,  for  example,  the  reason  for  keephig  holy  the 
seventh  clay  is,  in  Exodus,  because  "  God  rested  on  the 
seventh  day  from  the  work  of  creation ;"  in  Deuteron- 
omy it  is  to  remind  them  that  "  they  were  once  strangers 
in  the  land  of  Egypt."  Probably,  therefore,  these  rea- 
sons were  not  actually  written  on  the  stone,  but  were 
given  afterwards,  at  two  different  times,  by  way  of  ex- 
planation ;  so  that  the  first  four  Commandments,  as  they 
were  written  on  the  tables,  were  shorter  than  they  are 
now.  Here,  as  everywhere  in  the  Bible,  there  may  be 
many  reasons  for  doing  what  is  right.  It  is  the  doing 
of  the  thing,  and  not  the  particular  occasion  or  reason, 
which  makes  it  risrht.  Another  slight  difference  was 
that  the  Commandments  probably  were  divided  into  two 
equal  portions,  so  that  the  Fifth  Commandment,  instead 
of  being,  as  it  is  with  us,  at  the  top  of  the  second  table, 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  first.  The  duty  of  honoring 
our  parents  is  so  like  the  duty  of  honoring  God,  that  it 
was  put  amongst  the  same  class  of  duties.  The  duty  to 
both,  as  in  the  Roman  word  "  pietas,"  was  comprised 
under  the  same  category,  and  so  it  is  here  understood  by 
Josephus,  Philo,  and  apparently  by  St.  Paul.^ 

These  differences  between  the  original  and  the  present 
arrangement  should  be  noted,  because  it  is  interesting 
to  have  before  us  as  nearly  as  we  can  the  exact  likeness 
of  those  old  Commandments,  and  because  it  is  useful  to 
remember  how  even  these  most  sacred  and  ancient  words 
have  undergone  some  change  in  their  outward  form  since 
they  were  first  given,  and  yet  still  are  equally  true  and 
equally  venerable.  Religion  does  not  consist  in  counting 
the  syllables  of  the  Bible,  but  in  doing  what  it  tells  us. 

2.  When  the  Christian  Church  sprang  out  of  the  Jew- 
ish Church,  it  did  not  part  with  those  venerable  relics 

1  Ewald's  History  of  the  People  of  Israel,  vol.  i.  pp.  581-592,  English  trans- 
lation. 


374  THE   TEN    COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

of  the  earlier  time,  but  thej^  were  still  used  to  teach 
Christian  ar-  Christian  children  their  duty,  as  Jewish  children 
rangements.  j^^^j  y^^gj^  taught  before.  But  there  were  dif- 
Iferent  arrangements  introduced  in  different  parts  of  the 
world.  The  Talmudic  and  the  modern  Jewish  tradition, 
taking  the  Ten  Commandments  strictly  as  Ten  Words  or 
Sentences  (Decalogue),  makes  the  First  to  be  the  open- 
ing announcement :  "  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  which 
brought  thee  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,"  and  the  Second  is 
made  up  of  what  in  our  arrangement  would  be  the  First 
and  Second  combined.  The  Samaritan  division,  pre- 
served in  the  roll  on  Mount  Gerizim,  puts  the  First  and 
Second  together,  as  the  First,  and  then  adds  ^  at  the  end 
an  Eleventh,  according  to  our  arrangement,  not  found  in 
the  Hebrew  Pentateuch,  which  will  be  noticed  as  we 
proceed. 

When  the  Christians  adopted  the  Commandments 
there  were  two  main  differences  of  arrangement.  There 
was  the  division  of  Augustine  and  Bede.  This  follows 
the  Jewish  and  Samaritan  arrangement  of  combining  in 
one  the  First  and  Second  Commandments  of  our  arrange- 
ment. But  inasmuch  as  it  has  no  Eleventh  Command- 
ment, like  the  Samaritan,  nor  any  "  First.  Word,"  like 
the  Jewish,  it  makes  out  the  number  ten  by  dividing  the 
last  Commandment  into  two,  following  here  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  clauses  in  the  Hebrew  of  Deuteronomy,  and 
in  the  LXX.  both  of  Deuteronomy  and  Exodus,  so  as  to 
make  the  Ninth  Commandment  —  "  Thou  shalt  not  covet 
thy  neighbor's  wife,"  and  the  Tenth,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
covet  thy  neighbor's  house,"  etc.  This  is  followed  by 
the  Roman  Catholic  Chui'ch  and  the  Lutheran  Church. 
The  division  followed  by  Origen  and  Jerome  is  the  same 
as  that  followed  in  England  and  Scotland.  It  is  com- 
mon to  all  the  Eastern  Churches,  and  all  the  Reformed 

1  See  Professor  Plumptre,  in  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  vol.  iii.  pp.  1465, 1466. 


Chap.  XVIL]  THEIR    IMPORTANCE.  375 

Protestant  Churches.  Here,  again,  the  various  arrange- 
ments give  us  a  useful  lesson,  as  showing  us  how  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  our  doctrine  and  duty  may  not  be  quite 
put  together  in  the  same  way,  and  yet  be  still  the  same. 
And  also  it  may  remind  us  how  the  very  same  arrange- 
ments, even  in  outward  things,  may  be  made  by  persons 
of  the  most  opposite  way  of  thinking;  it  is  a  warning 
not  to  judge  any  one  by  the  mere  outward  sign  or  badge 
that  they  wear.  No  one  could  be  more  unlike  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  than  the  Reformer  Luther,  and 
yet  the  same  peculiar  arrangement  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments was  used  by  him  and  by  them.  No  one 
could  be  more  unlike  to  the  Eastern  Church  than  John 
Knox,  or  Calvin,  or  Cranmer,  and  yet  their  arrangement 
of  the  Ten  Commandments  is  the  same. 

II.  What  are  we  to  learn  from  the  place  which  the 
Ten  Commandments  occupied  in  the  old  dispensation  ? 

We  learn  what  is  the  true  foundation  of  all  religion. 
The  Ten  Commandments  are  simple  rules  ;  most  of  them 
can   be  understood  by  a  child.     But   still  they 

-,  ciiiT'-i       Importance 

are  the  very  heart  and  essence  of  the  old  Jewish   of  the  com- 

rr>\  mandments. 

religion.  They  occupy  a  very  small  payt  of  the 
Books  of  Moses.  The  Ten  Commandments,  and  not  the 
precepts  about  sacrifices  and  passovers  and  boundaries 
and  priests,  are  the  words  which  are  said  to  have  been  de- 
livered in  thunder  and  lightning  at  Mount  Sinai.  These, 
and  not  any  ceremonial  ordinances,  were  laid  up  in  the 
Most  Holy  Place,  as  the  most  precious  heritage  of  the 
nation.  "  There  was  nothing  in  the  ark  save  the  two 
tables  of  stone,  which  Moses  put  there  at  Horeb." 

Do  your  duty.  This  is  what  they  tell  us.  Do  your 
duty  to  G-od  and  your  duty  to  man.  Whatever  we  may 
believe  or  feel  or  think,  the  main  thing  is  that  we  are 
to  do  what  is  right,  not  to  do  what  is  wrong.  There- 
fore it  is  that  in  the  Church  of  England  and  in  the  Re- 


376  THE   TEN   COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

formed  Churches  of  the  Continent  they  are  still  read  in 
the  most  sacred  parts  of  the  service,  as  if  to  show  us  that, 
go  as  far  as  we  can  in  Christian  hght  and  knowledge, 
make  as  much  as  we  will  of  Christian  doctrine  or  of 
Christian  worship,  still  we  must  never  lose  hold  of  the 
ancient  everlasting  lines  of  duty. 

III.  But  it  may  be  said.  Were  not  those  Ten  Com- 
mandments given  to  the  Jews  of  old  ?     Do  they  not  re- 
fer to  the  land  of  Egypt  and  the  land  of  Pales- 
conimand-     tine  ?     We  love  and  serve  God,  and  love  and 

ments.  .... 

serve  our  brethren,  not  because  it  is  written  in 
the  Ten  Commandments,  but  because  it  is  written  on  the 
tables  of  our  hearts  by  the  Divine  Spirit  on  our  spirits 
and  consciences.  But  herein  lies  the  very  meaning  of 
their  having  become  a  Christian  Institution. 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  Jesus  Christ  took  two 
or  three  of  these  Commandments,  and  explained  them 
Himself  to  the  people.  He  took  the  Sixth  Command- 
ment, and  showed  that  for  us  it  is  not  enough  to  re- 
member, "  Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  but  that  the  Command- 
ment went  much  deeper,  and  forbade  all  angry  thoughts 
and  words.  This. was  intended  to  apply  to  all  the  other 
Commandments.  It  is  not  in  their  letter,  but  in  their 
spirit  that  they  concern  us  ;  and  this,  no  doubt,  is  what 
is  meant  by  the  prayer  which  in  the  Church  of  England 
follows  after  each  of  them,  and  at  the  end  of  all  of  them, 
"  Incline  our  hearts  to  keep  this  Commandment,"  "  Write 
all  these  Commandments  in  our  hearts^  we  beseech 
Thee." 

1.  Let  us  take  them  one  by  one  in  this  way.      The 

First  Commandment  is  no  longer  ours  in  the  letter,  for  it 

begins  by  saying,  "  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  who 

The  First  *j         *j        ~'  */  ' 

Command-     brouglit  tlicc  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt."    He  did 

ment.  ^    ,  i^:  V 

not  bring  us  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and 
so  completely  has  this  ceased  to  apply  to  us  that  in  the 


Chap.  XVII.]  THEIR   CONTEXTS.  377 

Commandments  as  publicly  read,  the  Church  of  England 
has  boldly  struck  out  these  words  altogether  from  the 
First  Commandment.  But  the  spirit  of  the  Command- 
ment still  remains  ;  for  we  all  need  to  be  reminded  that 
there  is  but  one  Supreme  Mind,  whose  praise  and  blame 
are,  above  all,  worth  having,  seeking,  or  deserving. 

2."  The  Second  Commandment  is  no  longer  ours  in  the 
letter,  for  the  sculptures   and  paintings  which  we  see  at 
every  turn  are  what  the  Second  Commandment 
in  its  letter  forbade,  and  what  the  Jews,  there-  command- 

.  -  _,  .  ment. 

tore,  never  made.  Jiivery  statue,  every  picture, 
not  only  in  every  church,  but  in  every  street  or  room,  is 
a  breach  of  the  letter  of  the  Second  Commandment.  No 
Jew  would  have  ventured  under  the  Mosaic  dispensation 
to  have  them.  When  Solomon  made  the  golden  lions  and 
oxen  in  the  Temple,  it  was  regarded  by  his  countrymen 
as  unlawful.  The  Mahometan  world  still  observes  the 
Second  Commandment  literally.  The  ungainly  figures  of 
the  lions  in  the  court  of  the  Alhambra,  contrasted  with 
the  exquisite  carving  of  arabesques  and  texts  on  the  walls, 
is  an  exception  that  amply  proves  the  rule.  The  Christian 
world  has  entirely  set  it  aside.  But  in  spirit  it  is  still 
important.  It  teaches  us  that  we  must  not  make  God 
after  our  likeness,  or  after  any  likeness  short  of  absolute 
moral  perfection.  Any  fancies,  any  doctrines,  any  prac- 
tices which  lead  us  to  think  that  God  is  capricious  or  un- 
just or  untruthful,  or  that  He  cares  for  any  outward  thing 
compared  with  holiness,  mercy,  and  goodness  —  that  is 
the  breach  of  the  Second  Commandment  in  spirit.  It 
was  said  truly  of  an  attempt  to  introduce  ceremonial 
forms  of  the  Christian  religion,  "  It  is  so  many  ways  of 
breaking  the  Second  Commandment."  Every  attempt  to 
purify  and  exalt  our  ideas  of  God  is  the  keeping  of  the 
Second  Commandment  in  spirit,  even  although  we  live 
amidst  pictures  and  statues  and  sculptures  of  things  in 
heaven  and  things  in  earth  and  things  under  the  earth. 


378  THE   TEN  COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

3.  The  Third  Commandment.    Here  the  original  mean- 
ing   of   the  Commandment   is  more  elevated  and  more 

spiritual  than  that  Avhich  is  commonlv  given  to 

The  Third        .  ,  r  .       .  ,  "^    * 

commaud-     it.     Many  see  in  it  onlv  a  prohibition  of  profane 

ment.  •  <<    i  . 

swearing  or  false  swearing.  It  means  this — but 
it  means  much  more.  It  means  that  we  are  not  to  appeal 
to  God's  name  for  any  unworthy  purpose.  It  is  a  protest 
against  all  those  sins  which  have  claimed  the  sanction  of 
God  or  of  religion.  The  words  are  literally,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  bring  the  Holy  Name  to  anything  that  is  vain," 
that  is,  to  anything  that  is  unholy,  hollow,  empty.  The 
plea  and  pretext  of  God's  name  will  not  avail  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  cruelty  or  hypocrisy  or  untruthfulness  or  un- 
dutifulness.  The  Eternal  will  not  hold  him  guiltless  who 
taketh  His  name  in  vain  —  that  is,  who  brings  it  to  an 
unjust  or  unrighteous  cause.  All  the  wicked  persecu- 
tions carried  on,  all  the  wicked  wars  waged,  all  the  pious 
fi'auds  perpetrated  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  God,  are 
breaches  of  the  Third  Commandment,  both  in  its  letter 
and  in  its  spirit. 

4.  The  Fourth  Commandment.    Here,  as  in  the  Second 
Commandment,  there  is  a  wide  divergence  between  the 

letter  and  the  spirit.     In  its  letter  it  is  obeved 

The  Fourth  ^,      .      .  .  , 

Command-  by  uo  Cliristiaii  socicty  whatever,  except  the 
Abyssinian  Church  in  Africa,  and  the  small  sect 
of  the  Seventh-Day  Baptists  in  England.  They  still 
keep  a  day  of  rest  on  the  Saturday,  the  seventh  day  of 
the  week.  But  in  every  other  country  the  seventh  day 
is  observed  only  by  the  Jews,  and  not  by  the  Christians. 
And  again  only  by  the  Jews,  and  not  by  Christians  any- 
where, are  the  Mosaic  laws  kept  which  forbade  the  light- 
ing of  a  single  fire,  which  forbade  the  walking  beyond 
a  single  mile,  which  forbade  the  employment  of  a  single 
animal,  which  visited  as  a  capital  offence  the  slightest 
employment  on  the  seventh  day.    And  again,  the  reasons 


Chap.  XVII.]  THEIR    CONTENTS.  379 

given  in  the  two  versions  of  the  Fourth  Commandment 
are  passed  away.  We  cannot  be  called,  as  in  Deuter- 
onomy, to  remember  that  we  were  strangers  in  the  land 
of  Egypt,  for  many  of  us  were  never  in  Egypt  at  all. 
We  cannot  be  called,  as  in  Exodus,  to  remember  that 
the  earth  was  made  in  six  days,  for  we  most  of  us  know 
that  it  took,  not  six  days,  but  millions  of  ages,  to  bring 
the  earth  from  its  void  and  formless  state  to  its  present 
condition.  The  letter  of  the  Fourth  Commandment  has 
long  ceased.  The  very  name  of  "  the  Lord's  Day  "  and 
of  "  the  fii'st  da}^  of  the  week  "  is  a  protest  against  it. 
The  very  name  of  Sabbath  is  condemned  by  St.  Paul.^ 
The  Catechism  of  the  Church  of  England  speaks  of  the 
duty  of  serving  God  all  the  days  of  our  life,  and  not  of 
serving  Him  on  one  day  alone.  But  the  principle  which 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  Fourth  Commandment  has  not 
passed  away.  Just  as  the  prohibition  of  statues  in  the 
Second  Commandment  is  now  best  carried  out  by  the 
avoidance  of  superstitious,  unworthy,  degrading  ideas  of 
the  nature  of  God,  so  the  principle  of  the  observance 
of  the  Sabbath  in  the  Fourth  Commandment  is  aimed 
against  worldly,  hard,  exacting  ideas  of  the  work  of  man. 
The  principle  of  the  Fourth  Commandment  enjoins  the 
saci'ed  duty  of  rest  —  for  there  is  an  element  of  rest  in 
the  Divine  Nature  itself.  It  enjoins  also  the  sacred  duty 
of  kindness  to  our  servants  and  to  the  inferior  animals  ; 
"  for  remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the  land  of 
Egypt."  How  this  rest  is  to  be  carried  out,  within  what 
limits  it  is  to  be  confined,  what  amount  of  innocent  rec- 
reation is  to  be  allowed,  how  far  the  Continental  nations 
have  erred  on  the  one  side  or  the  Scottish  nation  on  the 
other  side,  in  their  mode  of  observance,  whether  the  ob- 
servance of  the  English  Sunday  is  exactly  what  it  ought 
to  be,  or  in  what  respects  it  might  be  improved  —  these 
1  Col.  ii.  16. 


380  THE   TEN    COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

are  questions  which  this  is  not  the  place  to  discuss.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  amidst  all  the  variations  in  the  mode 
of  observing  the  Sunday,  it  is  still  possible,  and  it  is  still 
our  duty,  to  bear  in  mind  the  principle  of  the  ancient 
Law.  "  I  was  in  the  Spii-it  on  the  Lord's  Day  :  "  that  is 
what  we  should  all  strive  to  attain  —  to  be  raised  at  least 
for  one  day  in  the  week  above  the  grinding  toil  of  our 
daily  work  —  above  the  debasing  influence  of  frivolous 
amusements  —  above  the  jangling  of  business  and  con- 
troversy —  raised  into  the  high  and  holy  atmosphere 
breathed  by  pure  and  peaceful  lives,  bright  and  beauti- 
ful thoughts,  elevating  and  invigorating  worship.  Al- 
though the  day  has  been  changed  from  the  seventh  day  to 
the  first  day  everywhere  —  nay,  even  had  it  been  further 
changed  as  Calvin  intended,  from  Sunday  to  Thursday 
—  even  had  it  yet  been  further  changed,  as  Tyndale,  the 
foi-emost  of  the  English  Reformers,  proposed,  from  the 
seventh  day  to  the  tenth  day — yet  still  there  would  sur- 
vive the  solemn  obligation  founded,  not  on  the  Law  of 
Moses,  but  on  the  Law  of  God  in  Nature,  the  obligation 
of  rest  and  of  worship  as  long  as  human  nature  remains 
what  it  is,  as  long  as  the  things  which  are  temporal  are 
seen,  and  the  things  which  are  eternal  are  unseen.^ 

5.  The  Fifth  Commandment.     Here,  again,  the  letter 

has  ceased  to  have  any  meaning  for  us.     "  That  thy  days 

may  be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God 

The  Fifth  •        ^  i         i  „        tTr       i  -     •  i         •     i 

Command-  givcth  tuce.  vV  e  liavc  no  claim  on  the  inher- 
itance of  the  land  of  Canaan.  No  amount  of 
filial  reverence  will  secure  for  ns  the  possession  of  the 
goodly  heights  of  Lebanon,  or  the  forests  of  Gilead,  or  the 
rushing  waters  of  Jordan,  But  the  ordinance  of  affection 
and  honor  to  parents  has  not  diminished,  but  grown,  with 
the  years  which  have  passed  since  the  command  was  first 
issued.  The  love  of  son  to  mother,  the  honor  of  chil- 
1  See  Prof.  Tyndall's  admirable  Address  on  the  Sabbath  at  Glasgow. 


Chap.  XVII.]  THEIR   CONTENTS.  381 

dren  to  parents,  is  far  stronger  now  than  in  the  days  of 
Moses. 

It  is  often  discussed  in  these  days  whether  this  or  that 
principle  of  religion  is  natural  or  supernatural.  How 
often  is  this  distinction  entirely  without  meaning  !  The 
Fifth  Commandment  —  sacred  to  the  dearest,  deepest, 
purest,  noblest  aspirations  of  the  heart  —  is  natural  be- 
cause it  is  supernatural,  is  supernatural  because  it  is  nat- 
ural. It  is  truly  regarded  as  the  symbol,  as  the  sanction, 
of  the  whole  framework  of  civil  and  I'eligious  society. 
Our  obedience  to  law,  our  love  of  country,  is  not  a  bond 
of  mere  expediency  or  accident.  It  is  not  a  worldly,  un- 
spiritual  ordinance,  to  be  rejected  because  it  crosses  some 
religious  fancies  or  interferes  with  some  theological  alle- 
gory. It  is  binding  on  the  Christian  conscience,  because 
it  is  part  of  the  natural  religion  of  the  human  race  and 
of  the  best  instincts  of  Christendom. 

6.  The  Sixth  Commandment.  The  crime  of  murder  is 
what  it  chiefly  condemns,  and  no  sentimental  feelings  of 
modern  times  have  ever  been  able  to  bring  the 
murderer  down  from  that  bad  preeminence  as  command- 
the  worst  and  most  appalling  of  human  offend- 
ers. It  is  the  consummation  of  selfishness.  It  is  the  dis- 
regard of  the  most  precious  of  God's  earthly  gifts  —  the 
gift  of  life.  But  the  scope  of  the  Commandment  extends 
much  further.  In  the  Christian  sense  he  is  a  breaker  of 
the  Sixth  Commandment  who  promotes  quarrels  and  jeal- 
ousies in  families,  who  indulges  in  fierce,  contemptuous 
words,  who  fans  the  passions  of  class  against  class,  of 
church  against  church,  of  nation  against  nation.  In  the 
horrors  of  war  it  is  not  the  innocent  soldier  killing  his 
adversary  in  battle,  but  the  partisans  on  whatever  side, 
the  ambitious  in  whatever  nation,  the  reckless  journalists 
and  declaimers  of  whatever  opinions,  by  which  angry  pas- 
sions are  fostered,  that  are  the  true  responsible  authors 


382  THE    TEN   COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

of  the  horrors  which  follow  in  the  train  of  armies  and  in 
the  fields  of  carnage.  In  the  violence  of  civil  and  intes- 
tine discord,  it  is  not  only  human  life -that  is  at  stake, 
but  that  which  makes  human  life  precious.  "  As  well 
kill  a  good  man  as  a  good  book,"  was  the  saying  of  Mil- 
ton, and  so  we  may  add,  in  thinking  of  those  who  care 
neither  to  preserve  nor  to  improve  the  inheritance  which 
God  has  given  us,  "  As  well  kill  a  good  man  as  a  good 
institution." 

7.  The  Seventh  Commandment.     Of  this  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  here  also  we  know  well  in  our  consciences  that 

it  is  not  only  the  shameless  villain  who  invades 
Command-      the  sauctity  of   another's  home  and  happiness 

that  falls  under  the  condemnation  of  that  dread- 
ful word  which  the  Seventh  Commandment  uses.  It  is 
the  reader  and  writer  of  filthy  books  ;  it  is  the  young  man 
or  the  young  woman  who  allows  his  or  her  purity  and  dig- 
nity to  be  soiled  and  stained  by  loose  talk  and  loose  com- 
pany. If  the  sacredness  of  the  marriage  bond  be  the 
glory  of  our  English  homes,  no  eccentricities  of  genius, 
no  exceptional  misfortunes  —  however  much  we  may  ex- 
cuse or  pity  those  who  have  gone  astray  —  can  justify  us 
in  making  light  of  that  which,  disregarded  in  one  case,  is 
endangered  in  all,  which,  if  lost  in  a  few  cases,  is  the 
ruin  of  hundreds.  It  is  not  the  loss  of  Christianity,  but 
of  civilization  ;  not  the  advance  to  freedom,  but  the  re- 
lapse into  barbarism. 

8.  Tlie    Eighth    Commandment.       "  Thou    shalt    not 
steal."     That  lowest,  meanest  crime  of  the  thief  and  the 

robber  is  not  all  that  the  Eighth  Commandment 
Command-      coudcmus.     It  is  the  taking  of  money  which  is 

not  our  due,  and  which  we  are  forbidden  to  re- 
ceive ;  it  is  the  squandering  of  money  which  is  not  our 
own,  on  the  race-course  or  at  the  gambling  table  ;  it  is 
the  taking  advantage  of  a  flaw  or  an  accident  in  a  will 


Chap.  XVII.]  THEIR   CONTENTS.  383 

which  gives  us  property  which  was  not  intended  for  us, 
and  to  which  others  have  a  better  claim  than  we.  He 
is  the  true  observer  of  the  Eighth  Commandment  not 
only  who  keeps  his  hands  from  picking  and  stealing,  but 
he  who  renders  just  restitution,  he  who,  like  the  great  In- 
dian soldier,  Outram,  the  Bayard  of  modern  times,  would 
not  claim  any  advantage  from  a  war  which  he  had  victo- 
riously conducted,  because  he  thought  the  war  itself  was 
wrong ;  he  who  is  scrupulously  honest,  even  to  the  last 
farthing  of  his  accounts,  with  master  or  servant,  with  em- 
ployer or  employed ;  he  who  respects  the  rights  of  others, 
not  only  of  the  rich  against  the  poor,  not  only  of  the  poor 
against  the  rich,  but  of  all  classes  against  each  other. 
These,  and  these  only,  are  the  Christian  keepers  of  the 
Eighth  Commandment. 

9.  The  Ninth  Commandment.  "  Thou  shalt  not  bear 
false  witness."  False  witness,  deliberate  perjury,  is  the 
crown  and  consummation  of  the  liar's  progress. 
But  what  a  world  of  iniquity  is  covered  by  that  command- 
one  word,  Lie.  Careless,  damaging  statements, 
thrown  hither  and  thither  in  conversation;  reckless  exag- 
geration and  romancing,  only  to  make  stories  more  pun- 
gent ;  hasty  records  of  character,  left  to  be  published  after 
we  are  dead ;  heedless  disregard  of  the  supreme  duty  and 
value  of  truth  in  all  things,  —  these  are  what  we  should 
bear  in  mind  when  we  are  told  that  we  are  not  to  bear 
false  witness  against  ou^r  neighbor.  A  lady  who  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  spreading  slanderous  reports  once  con- 
fessed her  fault  to  St.  Philip  Neri,  and  asked  how  she 
should  cure  it.  He  said,  "  Go  to  the  nearest  market- 
place, buy  a  chicken  just  killed,  pluck  its  feathers  all  the 
way  as  you  return,  and  come  back  to  me."  She  was 
much  surprised,  and  when  she  saw  her  adviser  again,  he 
said,  "  Now  go  back,  and  bring  me  back  all  the  feathers 
you  have  scattered."    "  But  that  is  impossible,"  she  said  ; 


384  THE   TEN   COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

"  I  cast  away  the  feathers  carelessly ;  the  wind  carried 
them  away.  How  can  I  recover  them  ?  "  "  That,"  he 
said,  "  is  exactly  like  your  words  of  slander.  They  have 
been  carried  about  in  every  direction  ;  you  cannot  recall 
them.     Go,  and  slander  no  more." 

10.  The  Tenth  Commandment.  The  form  of  the  Com- 
mandment speaks  only  of  the  possessions  of  a  rude  and 
pastoral  people,  —  the  wife  of  a  neighboring 
Command-  chief,  the  male  and  female  slaves,  the  Syi'ian 
ox,  the  Egyptian  ass.  But  the  principle  strikes 
at  the  very  highest  heights  of  civilization  and  at  the  very 
innermost  secrets  of  the  heart.  Greed,  selfishness,  ambi- 
tion, egotism,  self-importance,  money-getting,  rash  specu- 
lation, desire  of  the  poor  to  pull  down  the  rich,  desire  of 
the  rich  to  exact  more  than  their  due  from  the  poor,  eager- 
ness to  destroy  the  most  useful  and  sacred  institutions  in 
order  to  gratify  a  social  revenge,  or  to  gain  a  lost  place, 
or  to  make  a  figure  in  the  world,  —  these  are  amongst  the 
wide-reaching  evils  which  are  included  in  that  ancient 
but  most  expressive  word  "  covetousness."  "  I  had  not 
known  sin,"  says  the  Apostle  Paul,  "  but  for  the  law 
which  says,  Thou  shalt  not  covet.''''  So  we  may  all  say. 
No  one  can  know  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin  who 
does  not  know  the  guilt  of  selfishness  ;  no  one  can  know 
the  exceeding  beauty  of  holiness  who  has  not  seen  or 
felt  the  glory  of  unselfishness. 

IV.  These  are  the  Ten   Commandments  — the   sum- 
mary of  the  morality  of  Judaism,  the  basis  of  the  moral- 
ity of  Christian  Churches.     We  have  heard  it 
great  Com-     Said  of  such  and  such  an  one  with  open,  genuine 

maudments.  i       i       i  •(■    i         i       i       i 

countenance,  that  he  looked  as  it  he  had  the 
Ten  Commandments  written  on  his  face.  It  was  re- 
marked by  an  honest,  pious  Roman  Catholic  of  the  last 
generation,  on  whom  a  devout  but  feeble  enthusiast  was 
pressing  the  use  of  this  and  that  small  practice  of  devo- 


Chap.  XVII.]         THE    TWO   GREAT    COMMANDMENTS.  385 

tion,  "  My  devotions  are  much  better  than  those.  They 
are  the  devotions  of  the  Ten  Commandments  of  God." 

In  the  Reformed  American  Church  and  in  the  Re- 
formed Churches  of  France,  and  intended  by  the  last 
Reformers  of  the  English  Liturgy  in  1689,  though  they 
failed  to  carry  the  point,  after  the  Ten  Commandments 
are  read  in  church  comes  this  memorable  addition,  which 
we  ought  all  to  supply  in  memory,  even  although  it  is 
not  publicly  used :  "  Hear  also  what  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  saith."  This  is  what  is  taken  as  the  ground  of  the 
explanation  of  the  Commandments  in  all  Christian  Cat- 
echisms of  our  duty  to  God.  Everything  in  what  we  call 
the  first  table  is  an  enlargement  of  that  one  simple  com- 
mand, "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God."  Every- 
thing in  the  second  table  of  our  duty  to  our  neighbor  is 
an  enlargement  of  the  command,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself."  The  two  together  are  the  whole 
of  religion.  Each  of  itself  calls  our  attention  to  what  is 
the  first  and  chief  duty  of  each  of  the  two  tables.  God, 
the  Supreme  Goodness,  and  the  Supreme  Truth,  is  to  be 
served  with  no  half  seiwice ;  it  must  be  a  service  that 
goes  through  our  whole  lives.  We  must  place  Him  above 
everything  else.  He  is  all  in  all  to  us.  Truth,  justice,  pu- 
rity are  in  Him  made  the  supreme  object  of  our  devotion 
and  affection.  "  Let  no  man,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  out  of 
weak  conceit  of  authority  or  ill-applied  moderation,  think 
or  imagine  that  a  man  can  search  too  far  or  be  too  well 
supplied  in  the  Book  of  God's  Word  or  the  Book  of  God's 
Works."  Man  is  to  be  served  also  with  a  love  like  that 
which  we  give  to  ourselves.  Selfishness  is  here  made  the 
root  of  all  evil ;  unselfishness  the  root  of  all  goodness. 
Toleration  of  every  difference  of  race  or  creed  is  summed 
up  in  the  expression  "  thy  neighbor." 

It  was  a  saying  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  "  When  any 
church  will  inscribe  over  its  altar  as  its  sole  qualification 

26 


386  THE   TEN    COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

for  membership  the  Saviour's  condensed  statement  of  the 
substance  of  both  Law  and  Gospel  in  those  two  great 
Commandments,  that  church  will  I  join  with  all  my 
heart  and  with  all  my  soul."  There  may  be  an  exag- 
geration in  the  expression,  but  the  thing  intended  is 
true.  If  any  church  existed  which  in  reality  and  in 
spirit  put  forth  those  two  Commandments  as  the  sum 
and  substance  of  its  belief,  as  that  to  which  all  else 
tended,  and  for  the  sake  of  which  all  was  done,  it  would 
indeed  take  the  first  place  amongst  the  churches  of  the 
world,  because  it  would  be  the  Church  that  most  fully 
had  expressed  the  mind  and  intention  of  the  Founder  of 
Christendom.^ 

V.  There  was  an  addition  which  the  English  divines 
of  the  time  of  William  III.  wished  to  make  to  the  recital 
The  Eight  ^^  ^^^  '^^^  Commandments  in  church.  It  was 
Beatitudes,  "ba^glj^fj  by  the  obstiuate  prejudice  of  the  inferior 
clergy.  But  its  intention  was  singularly  fine.  It  was 
that,  on  the  three  great  festivals,  instead  of  the  Ten 
Commandments  of  Mount  Sinai  should  be  read  the  Eight 
Beatitudes  of  the  Mountain  of  Galilee,  in  order  to  re- 
mind us  that  beyond  and  above  the  Law  of  Duty,  there 
is  the  happiness  of  that  inward  spirit  which  is  at  once 
the  spring  and  the  result  of  all  duty  —  the  happiness, 
the  blessedness  which  belongs  to  the  humble,  the  sincere, 
the  unselfish,  the  eager  aspirant  after  goodness,  the  gen- 
erous, the  pure,  the  courageous.  That  happiness  is  the 
highest  end  and  aim  of  all  religion. 

VI.  There  is  one  addition  yet  to  be  made,  which  has 
never  been  suggested  by  authority. 

We  sometimes  hear  in  conversation  of  an  Eleventh 
TheEiev-  Commandment  invented  by  the  woi'ld,  in  cyn- 
mandment     ical  coutcmpt  of  tlic  old  commandmsnts,  or  in 

1  The  subject  is  treated  at  length  in  "The  Two  Great  Commandments,"  in 
Addresses  at  St.  Andrews,  pp.  155-187. 


Chap.  XVII.]         THE   ELEVENTH   COMMANDMENT.  387 

pursuit  of  some  selfish  or  wicked  end.  Of  such  an 
Eleventh  Commandment,  whether  in  jest  or  earnest,  we 
need  not  here  speak.  It  is  enough  to  be  reminded  of  it, 
and  pass  it  hj.  But  there  is  also  what  may  be  called 
the  Eleventh  Commandment  of  churches  and  sects.  In 
the  oldest  and  most  venerable  of  all  ecclesiastical  divis- 
ions—  the  ancient  Samaritan  community,  who  have  for 
centuries,  without  increase  or  diminution,  gathered  round 
Mount  Gerizim  as  the  only  place  where  men  ought  to 
worship —  there  is,  as  noticed  above,  to  be  read  upon  the 
aged  parchment-scroll  of  the  Pentateuch  this  command- 
ment, added  to  the  other  Ten,  "  Thou  shalt  build  an  altar 
on  Mount  Gerizim,  and  there  only  shalt  thou  worship."  ^ 
Faithfully  have  they  followed  that  command  ;  excom- 
municating, and  excommunicated  by,  all  other  religious 
societies,  they  cling  to  that  Eleventh  Commandment  as 
equal,  if  not  superior,  to  all  the  rest.  This  is  ^j  jj^^ 
the  true  likeness  of  what  all  churches  and  sects,  Samaritans: 
unless  purified  by  a  higher  spirit,  are  tempted  to  add. 
"  Thou  shalt  do  something  for  this  particular  community, 
which  none  else  may  share.  Thou  shalt  do  this  over  and 
above,  and  more  than  thy  plain  duties  to  God  and  man. 
Thou  shalt  build  thine  altar  on  Mount  Gerizim,  for  here 
alone  our  fathers  have  said  that  God  is  to  be  worshipped. 
Thou  shalt  maintain  the  exclusive  sacredness  of  this  or 
that  place,  this  or  that  word,  this  or  that  doctrine,  this 
or  that  party,  this  or  that  institution,  this  or  that  mode 
of  doing  good.  Thou  shalt  worship  God  thus  and  thus 
only."  This  is  the  Eleventh  Commandment  ac- 
cording  to  sects  and  parties  and  partisans,     h  or 

1  The  Eleventh  (or  in  the  Samaritan  division,  the  Tenth)  Commandment  of 
the  Samaritans  is  here  somewhat  abridged.  It  consists  of  Deut.  xxvii.  2-7,  xi. 
30,  interpolated  in  Exod.  xx.,  with  the  alteration  of  Ebal  into  Gerizim.  I  ven- 
ture to  quote  the  substance  of  two  passages  from  Lectures  on  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  pp.  3,  4,  6-8.  There  is  a  striking  story  of  Archbishop  Usher  in  con- 
uection  with  it  (see  Ibid.  pp.  4-6). 


388  THE   TEN   COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

this  we  are  often  told  to  contend  more  than  for  all  the 
other  Ten  together.  For  an  Eleventh  Commandment  like 
to  this,  half  the  energies  of  Christendom  have  been  spent, 
and  spent  in  vain.  For  some  command  like  this  men 
have  fought  and  struggled  and  shed  their  own  blood  and 
the  blood  of  others,  as  though  it  were  a  command  en- 
graven on  the  tables  of  the  everlasting  law  ;  and  yet, 
again  and  again  and  again,  it  has  been  found  in  after 
ages  that  such  a  command  was  an  addition  as  venerable, 
perhajos,  and  as  full  of  interest,  but  as  superfluous,  as 
misleading,  as  disproportionate,  as  that  Eleventh  Samar- 
itan commandment,  —  "  Thou  shalt  build  an  altar  on 
Mount  Gerizim,  and  there  only  shalt  thou  worship." 

But  there  is  a  divine  Eleventh  Commandment,  —  "A 
oftheGos-  "®^  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  that  ye 
P®^-  love  one  another ;  As  I  have  loved  you,  that  ye 

also  should  love  one  another." 

It  is  contained  in  the  parting  discourse  of  St.  John's 
Gospel,  and  it  is  introduced  there  as  a  surprise  to  the 
Apostles.  "  What  ?  Are  not  the  Ten  Commandments 
enough  ?  Must  we  always  be  pressing  forward  to  some- 
thing new  ?  What  is  this  that  He  saith,  '  A  new  com- 
mandment ?  '  We  cannot  tell  what  He  saith."  Never- 
theless it  corresponds  to  a  genuine  want  of  the  human 
heart. 

Beyond  the  Ten  Commandments  there  is  yet  a  craving 
for  something  even  beyond  duty,  even  beyond  reverence. 
There  is  a  need  which  can  only  be  satisfied  by  a  new,  by 
an  Eleventh  Commandment,  which  shall  be  at  once  old 
and  new  —  which  shall  open  a  new  field  of  thought  and 
exertion  for  each  generation  of  men  ;  which  shall  give  a 
fresh,  undying  impulse  to  its  older  sisters —  the  youngest 
child  (so  to  speak)  of  the  patriarchal  family.  The  true 
new  commandment  which  Jesus  Christ  gave  was,  in  its 
very  form  and  fashion,  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the 
Christian  Religion. 


Chap.  XVII.]       THE   ELEVENTH   COMMANDMENT.  389 

The  novelty  of  the  commandment  lay  in  two  points. 
First,  it  was  new,  because  of  the  paramount,  predomi- 
nant place  which  it  gave  to  the  force  of  the  human  af- 
fections, the  enthusiasm  for  the  good  of  others,  which 
was  —  instead  of  ceremonial,  or  mere  obedience,  or  cor- 
rectness of  belief — henceforth  to  become  the  appointed 
channel  of  religious  fervor.  And,  secondly,  it  was  new, 
because  it  was  founded  on  the  appearance  of  a  new  char- 
acter, a  new  manifestation  of  the  character  of  Man,  a 
new  manifestation  of  the  character  of  God.  Even  if 
the  Four  Gospels  had  been  lost,  we  should  see,  from  the 
urgency  with  which  the  Apostles  press  this  new  grace  of 
Love  or  Charity  upon  us,  that  some  diviner  vision  of  ex- 
cellence had  crossed  their  minds.  The  very  word  which 
they  used  to  express  it  was  new,  for  the  thing  was  new, 
the  example  was  new,  and  the  consequences  therefore 
were  new  also. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  solid  blocks  or  tables  on  which 
tlie  Ten  Commandments  were  written  were  of  the  gran- 
ite rock  of  Sinai,  as  if  to  teach  us  that  all  the  great  laws 
of  duty  to  God  and  duty  to  man  were  like  that  oldest 
primeval  foundation  of  the  world  —  more  solid,  more  en- 
during than  all  the  other  strata ;  cutting  across  all  the 
secondary  and  artificial  distinctions  of  mankind  ;  heaving 
itself  up,  now  here,  now  there  ;  throwing  up  here  the 
fantastic  crag,  the  towering  peak,  there  the  long  range 
which  unites  or  divides  the  races  of  mankind.  That  is 
the  universal,  everlasting  character  of  Duty.  But  as 
that  granite  rock  itself  has  been  fused  and  wrought  to- 
gether by  a  central  fire,  without  which  it  could  not  have 
existed  at  all,  so  also  the  Christian  law  of  Duty,  in  order 
to  perform  fully  its  work  in  the  world,  must  have  been 
warmed  at  the  heart  and  fed  at  the  source  by  a  central 
fire  of  its  own  —  and  that  central  fire  is  Love  —  the  gra- 
cious, kindly,  generous,  admiring,  tender  movements  of 


390  THE    TEN   COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

the  human  affections  ;  and  that  central  fire  itself  is  kept 
alive  by  the  consciousness  that  there  has  been  in  the 
■world  a  Love  beyond  all  human  love,  a  devouring  fire 
of  Divine  enthusiasm  on  behalf  of  our  race,  which  is 
the  I^ove  of  Christ.  It  is  not  contrary  to  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. It  is  not  outside  of  them,  it  is  within 
them  ;  it  is  at  their  core ;  it  is  wrapped  up  in  them,  as 
the  particles  of  the  central  heat  of  the  globe  were  en- 
cased within  tlie  granite  tables  in  the  Ark  of  the  Tem- 
ple. "  What  was  it  that  made  him  undertake  the  sup- 
port of  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave-trade  ?  "  was  asked  of 
an  eminent  statesman  respecting  the  conduct  of  another. 
"  It  was  his  love  of  the  human  race." 

This  was  what  the  Apostle  Paul  meant  by  saying, 
"  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law."  This  is  what  St. 
Peter  meant  by  saying,  "  Above  all  things,  have  fer- 
vent," enthusiastic  "  Love."  This  is  what  St.  John 
meant  when,  in  his  extreme  old  age,  he  was  carried  into 
the  market-place  of  Ephesus,  and,  according  to  the  an- 
cient tradition,  repeated  over  and  over  again  to  his  dis- 
ciples the  words  which  he  had  heard  from  his  Master, 
"  Little  children,  love  one  another."  They  were  vexed 
by  hearing  this  commandment,  this  Eleventh  Command- 
ment, repeated  so  often.  They  asked  for  something 
more  precise,  more  definite,  more  dogmatic;  but  the 
aged  Apostle,  we  are  told,  had  but  one  answer:  "This 
is  the  sum  and  substance  of  the  Gospel ;  if  you  do  this,  » 
I  have  nothing  else  to  teach  you."  He  did  not  mean 
that  ceremonies,  doctrines,  ordinances  were  of  no  im- 
portance ;  but  that  they  were  altogether  of  secondary 
importance.  He  meant  that  they  were  on  the  outside 
of  religion,  whereas  this  commandment  belonged  to  its 
innermost  substance  ;  that,  if  tliis  commandment  were 
cai'ried  out,  all  that  was  good  in  all  the  rest  would  fol- 
low; that,  if  this  commandment  were  neglected,  all  that 


Chap.  XVII.]         THE   ELEVENTH   COMMANDMENT.  391 

was  good  in  all  the  rest  would  fade  away,  and  all  that 
was  evil  and  one-sided  and  exaggerated  would  prevail 
and  pervert  even  the  good.  He  meant  and  his  Master 
meant  that,  as  the  ages  rolled  on,  other  truths  may  be 
folded  up  and  laid  aside  ;  but  that  this  would  always 
need  to  be  enforced  and  developed. 

Love  one  another  in  spite  of  differences,  in  spite  of 
faults,  in  spite  of  the  excesses  of  one  or  the  defects  of 
another.  Love  one  another,  and  make  the  best  of  one 
another,  as  He  loved  us,  who,  for  the  sake  of  saving  what 
was  good  in  the  human  soul,  forgot,  forgave,  put  out  of 
sight  what  was  bad  —  who  saw  and  loved  what  was  good 
even  in  the  publican  Zaccheus,  even  in  the  penitent  Mag- 
dalen, even  in  the  expiring  malefactor,  even  in  the  heret- 
ical Samaritan,  even  in  the  Pharisee  Nicodemus,  even  in 
the  heathen  soldier,  even  in  the  outcast  Canaanite.  Make 
the  most  of  what  there  is  good  in  institutions,  in  opin- 
ions, in  communities,  in  individuals.  It  is  very  easy  to 
do  the  reverse,  to  make  the  worst  of  what  there  is  of 
evil,  absurd,  and  erroneous.  By  so  doing  we  shall  have 
no  difficulty  in  making  estrangements  more  wide,  and 
hatreds  and  strifes  more  abundant,  and  errors  more  ex- 
treme. It  is  very  easy  to  fix  our  attention  only  on  the 
weak  points  of  those  around  us,  to  magnify  them,  to  irri- 
tate them,  to  aggravate  them  ;  and  by  so  doing  we  can 
make  the  burden  of  life  unendurable,  and  can  destroy  our 
own  and  others'  happiness  and  usefulness  wherever  we  go. 
But  this  is  not  the  new  love  wherewith  we  are  to  love 
one  another.  That  love  is  universal,  because  in  its  spirit 
we  overcome  evil  simply  by  doing  good.  We  drive  out 
error  simply  by  telling  the  truth.  We  strive  to  look  on 
both  sides  of  the  shield  of  truth.  We  strive  to  speak  the 
truth  in  love,  that  is,,  without  exaggeration  or  misrepre- 
sentation ;  concealing  nothing,  compromising  nothing, 
but  with  the  effort  to  understand  each  other,  to  discover 


392  THE   TEN  COMMANDMENTS.  [Chap.  XVII. 

the  truth  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  error  ;  with  the 
determination  cordially  to  love  whatever  is  lovable  even 
in  those  in  whom  we  cordially  detest  whatever  is  detest- 
able. And,  in  proportion  as  we  endeavor  to  do  this, 
there  may  be  a  hope  that  men  will  see  that  there  are, 
after  all,  some  true  disciples  of  Christ  left  in  the  world, 
"  because  they  have  love  one  to  another." 


ADDENDA. 


To  p.  57. 

Deerhurst  Church  was  arranged  in  this  manner  in  1603,  and 
it  continued  with  its  table  east  and  west  till  1846.  It  is  now 
arranged  north  and  south,  but  otherwise  is  in  the  same  position. 

To  p.  85. 

"  The  requirement  of  the  Sacrament  has,  fortunately,  never 
been  to  any  great  extent  one  of  the  requirements  of  the  social 
code,  and  a  rite  which  of  all  Christian  institutes  is  the  most  ad- 
mirable in  its  touching  solemnity  has  for  the  most  part  been  left 
to  sincere  and  earnest  believers.  Something  of  the  fervor, 
something  of  the  deep  sincerity  of  the  early  Christians,  may 
even  now  be  seen  around  the  sacred  table,  and  prayers  instinct 
with  the  deepest  and  most  solemn  emotion  may  be  employed 
without  appearing  almost  blasphemous  by  their  contrast  with 
the  tone  and  the  demeanor  of  the  worshippers."  —  (From  some 
admirable  remarks  of  Mr.  Lecky  on  the  Test  Act.  History  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century,  vol.  i.  p.  255.) 

To  p.  174. 

Extract  from  Personal  Recollections  of  Sir  Gilbert  Scott,  p. 
28.  —  "  In  the  earliest  period  to  which  his  memory  extended, 
the  clergy  habitually  wore  their  cassock,  gown,  and  shovel  hat, 
and  when  this  custom  went  out  a  sort  of  interregnum  ensued, 
during  which  all  distinction  of  dress  was  abandoned,  and  clerics 
followed  lay  fashions.  This  is  the  period  which  Jane  Austen's 
novels  illustrate.  Her  clergymen  are  singularly  free  from  any 
of  the  ecclesiastical  character.  Later  on  the  clergy  adopted  the 
Buit  of  black,  and  the  white  necktie,  which  had  all  along  been 


394  ADDENDA. 

the  dress  of  professional  men,  lawyers,  doctors,  architects,  and 
even  surveyors:  of  men  in  short  whose  business  was  to  advise." 

To  p.  319. 

In  the  version  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  the  best  authorities  of 
Luke  xi.  2,  3,  4,  "  Which  art  in  heaven,"  "  Thy  will  be  done  in 
earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,"  and  "  Deliver  us  from  the  evil,"  are 
omitted. 


INDEX. 


Absolution,  use  of,  in  early  times, 

143,  156. 
Adiaphorism,  185. 
Altar,  57,  200,  224. 
Ambones,  importance  of,  61. 
Art,  early  Christian,  279. 
Athanaric,  funeral  of,  336. 
Athanasius,   15,  326,  330. 
Augustine,   19. 

Baptism,  original,  1,  3. 

—  Immersion,  21. 

—  Infants',  16,  23. 

—  Opinion  of  salvation  by,  16. 
Basilica,  197, 

Binding  and  loosing,  proper  mean- 
ing of,  143,  147. 

—  its  form,  199. 

Bishops  in  relation   to    presbyters, 

197. 
Blood  of  Christ,   meaning   of,  125, 

138. 
Body  of  Christ,  meaning  of  in  the 

Gospels,  116,  121. 
in  the  Epistle.s,  122,  125. 

Canons  of  1604,  187. 
Catacombs,  272. 

—  their  Jewish  character,  274. 

—  pictures,  275. 

—  epitaphs,  289. 

Chalcedon,  Council  of,  356, 358-362. 

—  reverses  the  decree  of  Ephesus, 
367. 

Chancellor,  164. 
Clergy,  207. 
Clergy,  origin  of,  217. 
Collect,  origin  of,  48. 


Confession,  use  of,  in   early  times, 

156. 
Confirmation,  19. 
Constantinople,  Creed  of,  365. 

—  contents,  origin  of,  367-371. 
Consubstantiation,  106. 
Cope,  165. 

Creed,  Apostles',  295. 

—  Nicene,  295,  326. 
Crosier,  224. 

Cup,  withholding  of,  103. 
Cyril  of  Alexandria,  357,  363. 

Deacons,  origin  of,  210. 
Doxology  in  Lord's  Prayer,  318. 
Dress,  ecclesiastical,  185. 

Elements,  37. 
Eleventh  Commandment,  386. 
Elizabeth  Lutheranism,  109. 
Ephesus,  Council  of,  355,  357,  358. 

—  decree  of,  363,  364. 
Episcopacy,  origin  of,  214. 
Eucharist,  antiquity  of,  33. 

—  permanence,  41. 
Euphemia,  Saint,  356. 
Extempore  prayer,  64. 

Father,  meaning  of,  297. 
Fish,  in  the  Sacrament,  55. 

GooDENOUGH,  Commodore,  43. 
Gorham  controversy,  11. 
Gregory  Nazianzcn,  327. 

Heine,  poem  on  the  Trinity,  312. 
Holy  Ghost,  meaning  of,  305. 
Homily,  meaning  of,  61. 
Hypostasis,  309. 


396 


INDEX. 


Jerome,  331 . 

Jewish  High  Priest,  liis  dress,  177. 

Juhe,  origin  of,  60. 

Kiss  of  peace,  importance  of,  62. 

Lamartine,  his  speech,  181. 
Litany,  its  origin,  259. 

—  its  English  transhition,  262. 
Liturgy,  ancient  form  of,  63. 
Liturgy  of  the  First  Praytr  Book  of 

Edward  VI.,  83. 
Lord's  Prayer,  324. 

—  language  of,  325. 

its  importance,  68,  69,  315. 

brevity,  conclusion  of,  320. 

Magic,  prevalence  of,  93,  94. 
Mass,  meaning  of,  49. 
Maximus,  331. 

Newman,  Cardinal,  description  of 
the  Council  of  Ephesus,  357. 

Nicasa,  Creed  of,  guarded  by  Ephe- 
sian  decree,  363. 

altered  by  Chalcedonian  de- 
cree, 364,  367. 

Offering  of  bread  and  wine,  66. 
Ordination,  words  used  in,  155. 

—  various  forms  of,  212. 
Ornaments'  Rubric,  185,  189. 

Parabolical,  language,  misuse  of, 
91. 

Passover,  36. 

Pearson,  Bishop,  43. 

Pontifex  Maximus,  229. 

Pope,  the,  compared  with  the  Em- 
peror and  the  Sultan,  220,  221. 

—  Italian  prince,  232. 

—  dress  of,  222. 
Pope,  how  created,  238. 

—  his  oracular  power,  240. 

—  mixed  character,  246. 


Pope,  name  of,  235. 

—  postures  of,  223,  224,  250,  257. 

—  service  of,  226. 
Popes,  lay,  236-240. 
Position  of  ministers,  58. 

Real  presence,  86. 

—  moral  and  spiritual,  87,  90,  96. 
Red  flag,  181. 

Redemption,  doctrine  of,  270. 
Regeneration,  77. 

Sacrifice,  offering  of  fruits,  68. 

—  Pagan  and  Jewish,  73. 
Scriptures,  reading  of,  60. 
Shepherd,  the  Good,  281. 
Son,  meaning  of,  299. 
Spinoza,  304. 

Spirit,  meaning  of,  305. 
Sponsors,  30. 
Standing  posture,  58. 
Substitution  of  Christian  ideas,  74, 
84. 

Table  or  altar,  earliest  form,  57. 
Temple,  196. 

Ten  Commandments,  372. 
Theodoret,   conduct    at   Council   of 

Chalcedon,  359,  361. 
Theoilosius,  334. 

—  moderation  of,  362. 
Transubstautiation,  99,  100. 

Union  of  Lutherans  and  Zwinglians, 
112. 

Vestments  (ecclesiastical),  163. 

—  origin  of,  165,  171. 
Vine,  the,  286 

Westminster  Abbey,  290. 
Wilhelm  Meister,  304. 
Wine,  54. 

—  mixed  with  water,  54. 


